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The Mystery of the Grey Oak Inn 



> 





I bet there’s something the matter with that house, it looks 
so awfully solemn.” 



The 

Mystery of the Grey Oak Inn 


A STORY FOR BOYS 


BY 

LOUISE GODFREY IRWIN 

1 1 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW YORK 

MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
1912 


Copyright, 1912, by - S' 


Moffat, Yard and Company 

NEW YORK 




Published September, 1912 


gCI.A327253 


This Story is Dedicated 
in 

Loving Memory 
to 

My Father, 

WILSON GODFREY 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Farm and the Family .... i 

II The Accident io 

III Jim Decides 18 

IV The Story of the Old Stone House . 34 

V The Search for the Secret Room . . 47 

VI A New Friend 62 

VII Suspense 73 

VIII Midnight in the Glen 82 

IX What Jim Saw from the Pine Tree . 91 

X The Crazy Counterfeiter . . . .102 

XI Helen’s Adventure no 

XII Jim and His Grandfather . . . .118 

XIII Outside the Secret Room . . . .134 

XIV The Quarrel 145 

XV The Big Wind 158 

XVI Afterward 172 

XVII Confidences 182 

XVIII What the Fire Did 193 

XIX Skip’s Discovery 203 

XX On the Trail 215 

XXI In the Middle of the Night . . . 226 

XXII And Then What Happened? . . . 239 

XXIII A Letter from Sam 252 

XXIV “ And Mr. Lyford Says ” . . . .262 

XXV News 275 

XXVI In the" Glen 288 

XXVII The United States Detective . . . 304 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“I bet there’s something the matter with that house, 


it looks so awfully solemn ”... Frontispiece / 

FACING PAGE 

The silence was so intense that the boys felt far away 

from the busy world all around them . . . .60^ 

The room was now so full of smoke that his eyes 

smarted 192 v 

“Oh, Grandpa, you ’wake? Here he is! Here’s 

the detective ” 336 ^ 







♦ 











% 















THE MYSTERY OF THE 
GREY OAK INN 


CHAPTER I 

THE FARM AND THE FAMILY 

J IM BURTON lived with Sam, a hired man, and 
his grandfather on the latter’s farm, three miles 
from a small village in Vermont. The nearest 
dwelling was at the crossroads, quarter of a mile 
away, where, standing on a slight elevation, was the 
farmhouse of Mr. Jones, the father of Skipworth, 
Jim’s steadfast friend and chum. In the winter the 
boys went to school together and enjoyed the com- 
panionship of other children. In the summer time, 
however, they rarely met for each worked hard on 
his farm. First, they planted and cultivated the 
soil; then they harvested the crops and gathered in 
the hay; and after a hot day’s work in the fields, 
even an energetic boy will not often voluntarily go 
on a long walk though it is to be with his best friend. 
Skipworth, or Skip, as all his friends called him, did 
not mind the separation so much as did his friend 
for he was one of six boys and girls ; but Jim, who 
had neither brother nor sister, would often have 
been lonely had it not been for the unfailing store 
I 


2 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


of amusement he always found in the glen which 
penetrated the mountain at the rear of the house for 
a great distance. He was growing up into a 
thoughtful, quiet boy, pitied by those who felt sorry 
for him in his lonely life with his cross old grand- 
father. These people did not know, however, how 
rich and happy Jim often was for he was possessed 
of many friendships unknown to them and to the 
children who lived in the village or on the neighbor- 
ing farms and who were not familiar with the re- 
sources of the glen. 

Chipmunks and squirrels, shy, busy creatures, 
often came scrambling down over rocks and trees to 
snatch food from his hands. Then they would 
hurry back to protecting branch or rocky perch and 
chatter their thanks to him. They were his friends. 
He never threw a stick at them. The water rat, the 
ground mole and the woodchuck went in and out of 
their homes openly before him. They were his 
friends. He never set a trap for them. The birds, 
whirring and singing overhead, near the entrance to 
the glen, for they did not like the gloomy shadows 
further in, fearlessly perched near and sang when 
he passed. They were his friends. He never 
aimed a bean shooter at them. These, and many 
other creatures of the forest, shared his quiet hours 
and taught him many things. 

Dearer than the busy, animated dwellers of the 
glen, however^ did he hold the trees; the upright, 
the crooked, the gnarled old trees, whose swaying 


THE FARM AND THE FAMILY 


3 


branches often bowed before the wind as it came 
sighing down from the cavernous depths of the for- 
est. Jim loved the trees. When he would arrive, 
hot and breathless, from an unhappy scene with his 
grandfather at the house, it would be to throw him- 
self down at the foot of some mossy old trunk and 
sob out his anger or repentance. Then rolling over, 
he would lie on his back and gaze up at the quiver- 
ing branches or the still, pendant leaves, and the 
peace and wisdom of these silent friends would help 
him to regain his self-control. These unhappy 
times, however, seldom occurred. Generally he 
would run up in the glen with a wild war whoop 
and climbing first one and then another of the 
thickly growing trees, indulge in all sorts of pranks 
and games. Then, his play over, he would cuddle 
down in one of the many comfortable nooks made 
by the spreading branches and watch the sun set 
over the big, stone house. 

And there, perched on one of the topmost 
branches of a hardy elm, could he be seen one early 
morning in July. He was impatiently waiting till 
Skip, who had come over to see him, should climb 
to his insecure eyrie. 

“ Well, here I am at last,” exclaimed the visitor, 
who, with much effort and many complaining mur- 
murs, struggled into a seat opposite his friend. 
“ Why didn’t you go up a little higher? This is 
nothing for me to do.” 

Both boys laughed for Skip’s chubby face and 


4 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


body plainly showed how hard it was for him to 
make any extra physical exertion. 

“ My, it’s hot, isn’t it ? The idea of dragging my 
one hundred and twenty pounds way — ” 

“ Wait till you cool off, Skip, and then you’ll see 
how nice it is up here. There’s a breeze, too.” 

“ Where ? I don’t feel any, and I don’t see the 
use of climbing so far up, anyway.” 

“ I want to show you something.” 

“ Show me something ! Jim, you are the silliest ! 
As if—” 

“ No,” interrupted the other, “ I couldn’t show 
you down on the ground. Just stand up and put 
your arm around that branch. Now, feel safe? 
Well, just look around, Skip, and tell me what you 
see.” 

“ See? Why your grandfather’s farm, of course, 
what should I see ? And our farm next to it. And 
though we can’t see it, three months’ good, hard 
work is down there in those planted fields for both 
you and me, worse luck — and that’s more than I 
want to see. What d’you see, Jim? ” 

“ Turn to the left, Skip, what d’you see now? ” 
“ Why, the road crossing the bridge, and going up 
among the trees, and the mountain.” 

“ And the open space where my grandfather cut 
down the wood last fall, can you see that, too ? ” 

“ Well, I should hope so. It’s right above the 
bridge.” Skip looked curiously at his friend for a 
moment. “ What you driving at, Jim? ” he asked. 
“ Fun, Skip, heaps of fun, and not too much work 


THE FARM AND THE FAMILY 


5 


for either of us all summer. Sit down and I’ll tell 
you all about it. My grandfather’s sold more’n half 
the farm.” 

“ Honest? Who’s bought it? ” 

“ Yes ; the State Agricultural College, for a ’speri- 
ment station,” said Jim, answering both questions at 
once. 

“ Where they going to live ? ” 

“ On that cleared ground you saw just now. 
They’re going to put up tents there — it’ll be just 
like camping out, I s’pose — till fall. Then, if 
they think it’ll pay, they’re going to build. That’s 
what they told grandpa.” 

“ It’s all right for you, I guess,” said the other 
boy. “ You’re lucky not to have farm work to do 
all summer. But I don’t see where I come in.” 

“ That’s just what I want to tell you. They’ll 
want some one to drive back and forth from the 
railroad station and run errands — only the run- 
ning’ll be on horseback — and they engaged me to 
do the work, and when they said I’d probably need 
a helper and could choose him myself, of course I 
said I’d have you.” 

“ Bully for you, Jim,” laughed Skip. “ Then 
you’re going to live here, just the same?” 

“ Yes, we’ve kept the glen and the house and the 
mountain as far as the pines, and our own garden. 
We sold that cleared space, for the tents, and our 
farm part of the land and the big hay barn for their 
storehouse and laboratory. They wanted the house 
and everything, but grandpa wouldn’t sell it all. 


6 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


They said the view from the pines was the finest in 
the county. As if we didn’t know that ” 

“ Of course it is. Well, who’s going to work the 
farm for them ? ” asked the practical Skip. 

“ Why, the college men and boys, I s’pose. I’m 
sure I don’t care how they manage it, there’ll be 
very little farming for me. Hurrah! Hurrah!” 
and Jim shook the tree-top till Skip held on with 
both hands and begged him to stop. 

“ I guess I’ll get down now,” he said in an un- 
steady voice; “ it must be ’most dinner time.” 

“ All right, I’ll come, too.” Jim followed his 
friend from branch to branch and they swung them- 
selves rapidly to the ground. “ I tell you what, 
Skip, we are certainly going to have a fine time this 
summer.” 

“ Hope my father’ll let me do it,” doubtfully re- 
plied Skip. 

“ He will, all right, for grandpa asked him last 
night and he said yes. So all we have to do now is 
to wait till the college fellers come.” 

“ Will they pay us anything?” 

“ Yep, look out for that bough, Skip. They’re 
going to decide how much when they see just how 
long they’ll need us each day.” 

“ Hope I’ll make enough to buy a bicycle with, 
anyway. What’ll you do with your money?” 

“ Save it toward finding my father with, if it 
takes forever,” Jim replied. “ I’m going to find 
him some day, but it’s pretty discouraging when 


THE FARM AND THE FAMILY 


7 

I’ve only got ten dollars and sixty cents saved up, 
and they say traveling’s awfully expensive.” 

“ Well, I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you, 
Jim, for you know your gandfather won’t tell you 
anything ’bout him till you’re fifteen and you’ve got 
two years to wait yet.” 

“ Yes, he will, too, Skip. He said last night when 
he told me about selling the farm, that when Sun- 
day came and he had time to tend to me, he’d tell 
me all about my father.” 

“ By cricky, Jim, weren’t you surprised? ” 

“ You bet I was. You could have knocked me 
over with a feather. But I can save up money just 
the same. I’ll need every cent I can get and more, 
too, I s’pose, no matter what he tells me.” 

The boys left the glen and followed the brook 
down to the bridge. Here they leaned over the rail- 
ing and tossed pebbles into the quiet pool. 

“ He may come back some day, you know.” 

“ ’Tain’t likely. He’s been away most ten years, 
now.” 

“ What’d he go for, anyway ? ” 

“ I d’know. Quarreled with grandpa ’bout some- 
thing.” 

“ Who told you that ? ” 

It was not often that Jim spoke of his father and 
Skip decided to improve this opportunity of finding 
out all he could. 

“ Sam.” 

“ Has Sam been here all that time ? ” 


8 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Yes; and his father was hired man here before 
that, too. Say, Skip, what d’you want most of any- 
thing in all the world ? ” 

“ Huh, that’s easy,” promptly answered the boy, 
as he deftly skipped a stone across the brook. “ A 
wheel, of course. What d’you? But I needn’t 
ask. It’s to find your father.” 

“ Yes, and to have him make up with grandpa. 
I want him to live at home with us. Oh, Skip, you 
have no idea how I want to live in a family.” The 
boy choked with homesickness. 

“ Well, mother says that we ’most always get 
what we work for; so, if you keep at it, you’ll prob- 
ably win,” replied Skip. “ And it’s great you’re go- 
ing to find out about your father, isn’t it? Well, 
I’m hungry and must go home or I’ll miss my din- 
ner. So long. I’ll come up again after supper.” 

“ All right ! Be sure you do.” Skip ran down 
the dusty road and Jim threw himself on the grass 
beneath the old oak tree. It was a quiet sunny day. 
A few bees hummed as they hovered over a stalk 
of white clover near by and up in the blue sky a 
bird sang. Jim stretched out lazily in the shade and 
whistled. The sad thoughts which were always 
brought up when his father was mentioned, were 
soon forgotten. The selling of the farm occupied 
his thoughts and made him very happy. He would 
not have to spend the long, hot days of the coming 
summer in the fields. As the glen and the mountain 
land, the house and the pine plantation still re- 
mained his grandfather’s property, the best part of 


THE FARM AND THE FAMILY 


9 


his home remained the same. It seemed to the lad 
that the disagreeable things of life had been disposed 
of, leaving only the pleasant, happy things. He 
planned many good times in the glen with Skip, and 
a care- free summer. And when Sam came around 
the corner of the house and called him, he sprang 
to his feet with the happy knowledge that he was 
hungry and quite ready for dinner; and that the 
afternoon in the cornfield was the last to be spent in 
that tiresome occupation. New and more interest- 
ing tasks awaited him in the morning. 


CHAPTER II 
THE ACCIDENT 


/ T“ s HOUGH the glen was as much his room as the 
-*■ little nook tucked away under the eaves of the 
farmhouse extension, Jim’s favorite resting place 
was the grey oak tree which stood between the front 
of the house and the road. In winter time, when 
the limbs reached out bare and ghostly fingers to 
the cold sky, he would often climb to the top and 
hang a lantern there. This could easily be seen by 
Skip, who would know when to look out for it. A 
red light meant, “ come over,” while a white one 
would say, “ I’ll come down.” In summer, a red 
or white flag, hoisted well above the highest leaves, 
carried the same message. No nail had ever been 
driven in its massive trunk nor planks fastened to 
any of its branches. Tree houses were plentiful in 
the glen, for, if injured, a tree, more or less, would 
never be missed there. But nothing which might 
harm the oak was allowed to be done to it. Jim’s 
grandfather had talked to him and made him realize 
that its beauty and associations, once lost, could 
never be restored; and, as the tree began to show 
signs of its great age, it was two hundred years old, 
soon after the boy reached the climbing age, he 


THE ACCIDENT 


ii 


rarely permitted himself the joy of getting up in it 
or of swinging from its branches. Yet he often 
spent Sunday afternoons there, screened by its thick 
foliage, and occasionally asked Skip, but never any 
other boy, to join him. He was careful to do all he 
could to prolong the life of his old friend. 

Once or twice during the previous year, unusually 
severe storms had indicated that the oak might not be 
able to stand another winter of rough weather, and 
Jim’s heart beat fast when he heard his grandfather 
say that he thought it was about time to cut the old 
tree down. For days he had gone about in fear and 
trembling, dreading each spare moment taken from 
his grandfather’s usual occupations. He was afraid 
it would be devoted to the destruction of the dear 
old oak. Weeks passed, however, and as nothing 
happened, in time the fear lessened. So, this pleas- 
ant afternoon in early July, when, for the last time 
he had returned from cultivating the corn in the 
north field, he was not prepared for the unhappy 
surprise in store for him. 

A quick, startled glance at the group in front of 
the house told him the unwelcome truth. For a 
moment Jim stared with doubting eyes. Then he 
dropped his spade, where it lay for days afterward 
in the long grass, and ran away to the solitude and 
the comfort of the glen. They were going to cut 
down the oak ! 

The boy’s one idea was to get as far as possible 
from the house. He did not want to hear the quick, 
thudding strokes of the ax, nor see the old branches 


12 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


quiver and fall to the ground. So he followed the 
glen trail almost to the end, toiling over the mossy, 
stony earth and rotting branches of fallen trees 
till he had penetrated quite into the gloom of 
the forest. Though he had gone a great deal far- 
ther than was necessary he still kept on. He could 
not bear to turn around and go home. At last, out 
of breath and tired, he threw himself down on a flat 
rock on which were piled up, as though for future 
use, a neat bundle of sticks and small branches, 
dried leaves and moss. 

“ Hullo,” thought the boy, sitting up and looking 
curiously about him, “ some one’s been here before.” 
He leaned over the half-burned embers of a little 
fire, at which he lazily poked with a stick. The fire 
had evidently been out but a short time, for the 
charred bits of wood still smelled smoky and so- 
ciable, and then, as Jim kept poking at them, gave 
out a faint, scorchy smell, as of burned clothing. 
“ Oh,” disgustedly grunted the boy, as he threw the 
stick away and rolled over, “ I bet those old Italians 
from the ‘ settlement ’ have been here again, steal- 
ing grandpa’s wood and burning up their old duds. 
Well, when once we find out who they are I guess 
they’ll be sorry. Hum, — I wonder — if the old 
tree’s down yet.” His face clouded over and he be- 
gan to toss pebbles into a broad placid stretch of 
the little brook. This slight noise alone broke the 
stillness of a perfect afternoon. 

Presently, a crackling of bushes farther up the 
mountain and a cheery whistle, coming with each 


THE ACCIDENT 


13 


step nearer the listening boy, told him he was no 
longer alone. Scarcely had he jumped to his feet 
and faced the narrow trail, now almost lost in the 
gathering dusk, when the nearest branches were 
thrust aside and the whistler appeared. 

“ Hullo,” the man exclaimed, as he transferred 
a light basket from one arm to another and shook 
the boy’s outstretched hand ; “ so you followed me 
after all. As I came by the barn I told your grand- 
father that no one could dig sassafras root nor pick 
checkerberry leaves so fast as you and he said he’d 
send you up after — why, what’s the matter? 
What’s happened ? ” 

“ Oh, Dr. Brown,” the boy cried, “ it’s grandpa, 
he’s—” 

“ Come, we must hurry. Here, you take the bas- 
ket. I can go faster with both hands free. When 
was he taken ? What was the — ” 

“ Grandpa isn’t hurt, there’s nothing the matter 
with him ” interrupted Jim as he scrambled along 
after the stalwart figure of the doctor, trying in vain 
to keep up with his long, hurried strides. “ Noth- 
ing’s the matter with my grandfather. It’s the 
grey oak.” 

“ What ! ” The doctor stopped so quickly that 
before Jim could help it he ran right into the broad 
back in front of him. Both man and boy went 
down together. 

“Oh, did I hurt you? I’m awfully sorry but I 
didn’t know you were going to stop,” exclaimed Jim, 
who, jumping up and struggling with a desire to 


14 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


laugh helped the doctor to his feet and picked up 
the basket. Suddenly his trouble seemed to be 
much lighter. 

The man good-naturedly brushed off his coat and 
put on his hat which Jim handed to him. “ Well,” 
he said, “ so long as no bones are broken let’s take 
it easy and you can tell me all about it on our way 
back. From the expression of your face I thought 
some one was dead or very near it. But if it is 
only a tree whose end is come, for I guess that is 
the cause of your trouble, my services will not be 
required.” 

At the moment Jim’s story was finished they 
turned the comer of the house and came face to face 
with the old tree. It was still standing. The sun, 
now low in the west, threw a mellowing glow over 
leaf, branch and trunk. It had never before looked 
so beautiful to the boy. “ Perhaps they’re not going 
to, after all,” he thought. Then he saw the chips 
on the ground, the ax lying near the cruel gashes 
in the big trunk. He started to run away again but 
Dr. Brown’s hand was laid gently on his shoulder 
and he would not let him go. 

“ Brace up and be a man,” he whispered. “ Just 
watch your grandfather, Jim. I guess you don’t 
feel any sorrier about losing the old tree than he 
does and yet look at him. He’d never let on he 
cared.” 

Thus admonished, Jim sat down on the stone 
steps of the front porch and watched, with dry, 
burning eyes, the destruction of the old grey oak. 


THE ACCIDENT 


15 


The work was being done under the direction of his 
grandfather. The dirt had been taken away from 
the roots, and four Italians, called in from mending 
the road, were pulling steadily on ropes which had 
been previously fastened around the trunk by good- 
natured, regretful Sam. 

Slowly, steadily, the men pulled. Slowly, 
steadily, with many a protesting groan, the big tree 
yielded to the strain. The roots, though partly un- 
covered, still extended deep into the soil. The tree 
bent like a huge bow. Sam dropped lightly to the 
ground and stood at one side with Dr. Brown. 
Gray-haired Mr. Burton sprang among the now 
prostrate branches and stood immediately in front 
of the Italians. He told one of them to chop free a 
certain root. His order was misunderstood. All 
the men dropped the ropes at the same time and 
started for the other end of the tree. They had 
scarcely taken a step, however, when the huge oak, 
like a catapult, snapped back to its upright position. 
Jim’s grandfather was sent flying through the air 
like a stone from a sling. He fell with a dull thud 
forty feet away. The tree swayed back and forth. 
When the workmen saw what they had done, they 
hastily grabbed up their picks and shovels and hur- 
ried off down the road, panic-stricken. Their de- 
parture was unnoticed by the others who were now 
bending over Mr. Burton, trying to find out where 
he was hurt. He did not answer their anxious and 
repeated questions. Suddenly Sam looked up. 

“ Jim,” he cried, “ go to th’ kitchen an’ take th’ 


16 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


keys frum th’ nail by th’ clock ’n open th’ doors, 
both back and front, to th’ house. We’ll take yer 
grandpa inter one of th’ front rooms.” 

“ That’s right,” Jim heard the doctor say, and as 
he hurried around the corner of the house the 
stricken look on his grandfather’s white, uncon- 
scious face brought tears to the boy’s eyes. When 
he tried to unlock the stout, iron-bound door which, 
at the top of a few steps, led from the kitchen to 
the rear of the house proper, many minutes passed 
before the key would turn and allow it to swing 
back on its rusty hinges. Then Jim ran down the 
long, dark hall and when he succeeded in throw- 
ing open the double doors onto the stone porch, 
there stood Dr. Brown and Sam, supporting their 
silent burden between them. Quick to answer their 
demands, the boy led the way into the large, corner 
room which looked out on both the road and the 
brook. With fast beating heart he watched them 
tenderly lay his grandfather on the big, long unused, 
black walnut bed. 

For a few minutes the three stood silently watch- 
ing the quiet, old man. Then Dr. Brown, for the 
second time that afternoon, affectionately placed his 
hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Jim, my lad,” he 
said, “ run down to Skip’s and ask his mother or 
Ellen to put a few things in a bag and come up here. 
I’ll need a nurse.” 

The boy started, then stopped ; looking silently up 
into the doctor’s face the question he dared not ask. 

“ I don’t know yet,” said the doctor, kindly, 


THE ACCIDENT 


17 

“ whether he is going to get well or not — but he 
isn’t suffering.” 

“ I’m thankful fer thet, I tell yew ” murmured 
Sam, and he blew his nose and winked hard. 

Jim ran from the room and was half way across 
the lawn when something that shone in the grass 
attracted his attention. He stooped and picked up 
from the ground near his grandfather’s hat a thin, 
gold chain to which was attached a small locket. 
Bits of bark were fastened to both by several strands 
of long horse hair. 

“ That must have been flung out of the tree,” 
mused the boy. He thrust his unexpected dis- 
covery in his pocket and hurried down the road. 
“ I wonder how they ever got there and who they 
belong to? ” Then he forgot about the little, round 
locket and everything else save bringing help to his 
grandfather as soon as possible. Suddenly, like a 
flash of lightning, came the thought, “ If he dies 
without telling me about my father, what shall I do, 
what will become of me ? ” 


CHAPTER III 


JIM DECIDES 



‘HE events of the next three hours followed 


each other with such rapidity that Jim had no 
time in which to worry about his grandfather. He 
quickly hurried from one duty to another trying 
hard to please and doing so well that more than once 
he was praised for his helpfulness. At last, how- 
ever, everything possible for the sick man’s com- 
fort had been done and the usual night time quiet 
settled down on the farm. 

The tired boy crept out into the long hall and 
laid down on the old-fashioned sofa that stood 
against the broad flight of stairs which led to the 
blackness of the upper stories. He wondered if the 
time would ever come when he would be allowed to 
investigate those mysterious rooms about which he 
had often thought and never seen. And then he 
thought about going to bed. But he was very com- 
fortable where he was and decided to stay curled 
up in one corner of the sofa. It was lonesome out 
in the extension now for Sam was still in the sick 
room and even the big, black cat had found its way 
to the front of the house. She came, mewing, up 
the rough stone steps of the porch and stood un- 


JIM DECIDES 


19 


certainly on the threshold of the open door. Jim 
heard her plaintive call and tiptoed to get her. 
When he returned to the sofa she snuggled down in 
his arms and purred contentedly, one soft, black paw 
resting on his face. There, an hour later, Sam 
found them, both fast asleep. He covered them up 
and Jim slept soundly till morning. He never 
moved till long after sunrise and then not till some 
one shook him and he opened his sleepy eyes to see 
Sam’s broad, good-natured face smiling down into 
his. 

“ Time ter git up, Jim,” he said. 

“Why, what is it? Where am I?” cried Jim, 
starting up in surprise and tumbling Blackie in a 
confused heap on the floor. In a moment he re- 
membered, and caught Sam by the sleeve. “ My 
grandfather,” he whispered. “ How is he? ” 

“ Jest th’ same. Hasn’t moved, nor spoke. El- 
len’s still with him an’ after you hev yer break- 
fast yer’d better ride Judge down to Skip’s an’ tele- 
phone ter th’ doctor. I told him I’d report early. 
If it hadn’t bin fer yer grandpa’s foolish notion we’d 
hev a wire of our own. Come, now, Jim, git a 
hustle on. Run up an’ wash an’ I’ll pour your 
coffee. Breakfast’s ready and waiting.” 

While Sam was speaking he led the way through 
the hall and down the few steps to the kitchen. 
There, on a table, drawn out in the middle of the 
low room, was spread a hearty morning meal to 
which, in a few moments, both man and boy sat 
down. Then Sam went to take Ellen’s place and 


20 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


Jim started to get Judge, one of the two strong 
horses, to take him on his errand. As he passed a 
certain nail near the barn door, he reached up, as 
usual, to take his overalls from where they were al- 
ways hung when his work was done. To his sur- 
prise they were not there. Nor had they fallen to 
the ground, nor did a rapid search round about bring 
them to view. “ Plague take it, where d’you s’pose 
they are, an’ me in such a hurry,” muttered Jim, as 
he mounted Judge and rode around to the front of 
the house where he found Sam chopping away at the 
tree. 

“ Yer overalls? No, I hain’t seen ’em, nor wore 
’em, neither,” chuckled the hired man in answer to 
Jim’s question. “ Ther ’round some’ers — whar 
you wore ’em last, prob’ly — you must larn ter take 
keer on yer things, Jim, er yer ’ll never hev any.” 

“ But I did hang them up, Sam, I know I did,” 
persisted the boy, “ when I took them off the last 
time I wore them, and put them right where they be- 
long, too. I bet some one’s taken them.” 

“ Wal, now, who’d do sech a fool thing as that, 
I’d like ter know,” laughed Sam. “ Ter run off 
with a pair of overalls, that is most wore out, too, 
ain’t they? Wal now, Jim, give me a hand here, 
will yer ? An’ I’ll help yer hunt fer those precious 
overalls later in th’ day. But yer grandpa don’t 
need me now and this old tree has gotter come 
down. It’s too wobbly ter be safe. A wind’d 
blow it over on top of somebody an’ then thar’d be 
damages ter pay. If them pesky Eyetalians — ” 


JIM DECIDES 


21 


Jim slipped from the horse and took hold of the 
rope. His strength, added to Sam’s, soon pulled 
the old tree from the ground. With a last, protest- 
ing shiver it threw itself on the lawn. Jim turned 
away as quickly as he could, while a grim smile 
crosed his face as he thought that after all, his own 
hand had helped in the final destruction of his old 
friend. 

When he reached the low, white farmhouse, Skip 
ran out to meet him. 

“ Hullo, there,” he laughed, “ I hear you’ve had 
great doings up to your house since I left.” Then, 
noting the other’s anxious face, he added, “ Don’t 
worry about your grandfather too much, Jim. I’m 
sure he’ll get well. I heard Dr. Brown tell father 
last night, when he drove past, that he expected to 
pull him through all right.” 

“ Oh, that’s what they always say,” answered 
Jim and he slipped from the horse who immediately 
began to nibble the grass in the dooryard. “ Watch 
Judge, will you? I gotter telephone the doctor. 
He wanted to hear from us first thing this morn- 
ing.” When he returned it was to say that Mrs. 
Jones had some things to send up to Ellen and 
if he wished, Skip could take them and spend the 
day. 

“ Do I want to ! ” laughed the boy, “ hurrah, I 
guess I do.” He ran in to get his bundle and bid 
his mother good-by. 

Then he sprang up behind Jim and Judge trotted 
out of the yard with the two laughing boys on his 


22 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


broad, bare back. It was hard work to keep from 
slipping off, either on one side or the other, and 
twice Skip did have to get down and pick up the 
bundle for his sister which had fallen to the ground. 
Then Judge was persuaded to go more slowly and 
the boys outlined their plans for the day. 

“ What d’you say to going way up the glen as 
far’s the falls,” proposed Jim; “we haven’t been 
up there this spring. And besides, I saw some- 
thing on the trail yesterday which looks mighty sus- 
picious. I guess the Italians from the ‘ settlement ’ 
have begun to come round again. There’s a fire 
place up there and it looks’s though some one’d slept 
there. You know we can’t let any one leave a fire 
in the woods this dry weather. We’d be all burned 
out first thing we knew. So d’you want to go up 
there and snoop round an’ see’f we can discover 
who they are ? ” 

“ All right, I’m willing,” answered Skip, ready 
as always to agree with Jim in any scheme or plan. 
“ I’ll do anything you say. Well, here we are and 
how funny the house looks without the tree in front 
of it, doesn’t it? So big and lonesome.” 

Jim reined in the horse and the boys looked up at 
the square, stone building, whose only sign of life 
was in the corner room on the first floor where the 
sick man lay. Ellen sat at the window and waved 
her hand to them. 

“It gives you the creeps, doesn’t it?” continued 
Skip. “ No wonder you live in the extension. I 
wouldn’t sleep there for a peck o’ gold. I just bet 


JIM DECIDES 


23 


there’s something the matter with that house, it 
looks so awfully solemn, somehow.” 

“ That’s because the old oak’s down,” answered 
Jim. “ We’re not used to the house without that 
in front of it. Well, I guess there’ll be no glen for 
us to-day. I’d forgotten the tree when I asked you 
to come up, Skip. I s’pose I’ll have to work out 
here all day, carrying brush, hauling logs and help- 
ing Sam all I can.” 

“ All right, and I’ll help, too, I just as lief,” re- 
plied Skip. “ It’ll be fun.” 

“ I have my doubts about that,” laughed Jim. 
“ But if you’ll get off now and take Ellen’s bundle 
to her, I’ll put Judge in the barn, find Sam and ask 
him what we’d better do first.” 

“ It mixes everything all up to have any one sick 
in the house, doesn’t it,” mused Skip, as he tossed 
his bundle on the stone porch and jumped lightly 
after it. 

“ Yes, ’specially when it’s the boss of the whole 
shebang,” answered Jim. He rode off to the barn. 
Skip met his sister at the front door. 

“Oh, did we wake him up? Did we make a 
noise ? ” he whispered. 

“ No, don’t worry,” she said, kindly. “ Those 
my things ? Thank you for bringing them up. Go- 
ing to stay all day? That’s nice, for I’m sure Jim 
needs you now for company, if he never needed you 
before. Let’s sit down a minute. I can watch Mr. 
Burton all right from this chair in the hall. 
Where’d Jim go?” 


24 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Here I am,” and the boy quietly came from out 
the gloom of the long hall. “ How’s my grand- 
father now, Ellen ? ” 

“Just the same. When’ll the doctor come?” 

“ ‘ About twelve,’ he said. “ D’you mean my 
grandfather hasn’t waked up yet? ” 

“Yes; he has been just this way ever since I 
came. I might as well be home as here. I haven’t 
done a thing for him except wash his face and 
hands.” 

“ Do you s’pose he’d mind if we worked on the 
tree?” 

“ No, chop and saw all you want to. I dropped 
a pitcher, full of water, a little while ago and he 
never even winked. He doesn’t hear a thing. I 
only wish he did.” 

“ Wal, then, boys,” said Sam, who had come up 
the steps just in time to hear what Ellen said, “ if 
thet’s th’ case, let’s git ter work right stret off.” 
He turned to the huge, old tree, lying prostrate be- 
tween the house and the road, and, as the others 
followed him, Ellen continued : 

“ I’ll sit in the window so’s I can watch both you 
and Mr. Burton. Then if he seems to mind your 
noise I’ll let you know at once.” 

“ Say, Sam,” asked Jim, as he took off his coat 
and rolled up his sleeves, “ you seen Judge’s halter 
’round anywheres? I can’t find it — had to put 
him in the box stall just now.” 

“ No, I hain’t seen it. Didn’t yer leave it on 
when yer rode down ter Skip’s jest now?” 


JIM DECIDES 25 

“No, I took it off, when I put the head stall on, 
and left it in the manger. I’m sure I did.” 

“ Wal, I guess yer didn’t er it’d be there now, 
wouldn’t it? ” 

“ Well, I’d like to know, Sam, if you think I’m 
losing my senses ? ” 

“ No, carn’t say thet I do,” chuckled the man, 
“ fer you hev ter hev ’em first so as you can lose 
’em, don’t you? Wal now, let th’ halter go ter 
keep company with th’ overalls, wherever they may 
be, and git ter work on this tree. Here, lend a hand 
with this saw.” 

Thus the morning passed. Silence within the 
house, busy animation out on the lawn. When, far 
off in the village, the noon whistle blew, all the 
twigs and small branches had been cut from the 
tree, tied together, and stacked back of the kitchen 
in the wood-shed. The upper part of the trunk and 
several of the big branches had been sawed through, 
making good sized logs for the open fireplace next 
winter; and these had been hauled, chained together 
by the horses, to the wood pile. The boys and Sam 
then dropped ax and saw and stretched at full length 
on the fragrant earth. It was good to rest. 

“ My, but I’m tired,” laughed Skip, and he rolled 
over and tickled Jim’s nose with an oak leaf. 

“ Don’t, it’s too hot and I’m too hungry,” protested 
the boy, good-naturedly. “ And I s’pose it’s up to 
me to get dinner. Sam got the breakfast, didn’t 
you, Sam ? ” 


26 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


The man’s only answer was a snore. He was 
fast asleep. 

Then Jim reluctantly scrambled to his feet and. 
followed by his faithful friend, ran around to the 
side porch. Through the screen door they could see 
Ellen, busy at the stove. Appetizing odors stealing 
out from bobbing kettle lids told what she was do- 
ing. 

“ Oh, good for you, Ellen,” cried Jim. “ I’m 
hungry as a bear. You’re awfully good to get din- 
ner for us.” 

“ Not at all,” she answered; “ I was glad to have 
something to do. Everything’s all ready to dish up 
so set right down. I want to get through before 
the doctor comes. I’ll eat with you as your grand- 
father’s just the same. He doesn’t know whether 
I’m in the room or not.” 

“ All right, my, but I’m hungry,” came the an- 
swer as the two boys willingly dropped into their 
chairs at the table. They had just finished their 
last mouthful when Sam led a horse and buggy past 
the door on the way to the bam. And the sound 
of footsteps in the front of the house told them the 
doctor had come. Ellen and Jim hurried out to 
meet him. Skip stayed in the kitchen to help Sam, 
when the latter had eaten, wash the dishes and put 
the room in order before beginning the afternoon’s 
work. 

When Jim entered his grandfather’s room he no- 
ticed that all the windows were open, and as the 


JIM DECIDES 


27 


strong, midday light dazzled his eyes, at first he 
did not see Dr. Brown, who was leaning over the 
bed and touching his grandfather’s head and face 
with firm, experienced fingers. But when he did 
see, he, too, hurried over to the bed. 

“ Is my grandfather going to die? ” he asked. 

“ I don’t think so,” answered the doctor ; “ but he 
is a very sick man. Ellen, just get behind the bed 
and help me roll it out into the middle of the room. 
That’s it; thank you, Jim. We want all the light 
and air we can get for a minute. There, that’s bet- 
ter — and now, where’s Sam ? ” 

“ Here I am, Dr. Brown,” and the man, in his 
squeaky boots, tiptoed into the room. 

“ And I’m here, too,” said Mr. Jones, as he also 
entered and smiled affectionately at his daughter. 
“ ’Morning, Ellen. How’d you like the nursing 
business for a full due? Eh? My wife said you 
called me as you drove by, doctor. I was out to the 
barn but I came right along up.” 

Suddenly, Jim trembled all over. What did the 
doctor want to see Sam and Mr. Jones for? What 
were they going to do to his grandfather, lying there 
so quiet and helpless ? What did they mean, stoop- 
ing over and examining him so carefully? 

Ellen slipped out on the porch. She watched 
Skip, who had begun to chop away again at the 
old tree. 

After the three men had looked gravely at the 
one in the bed for some minutes, they moved in a 
little group to one of the windows. Dr. Brown 


28 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


began to speak but in so low a voice Jim did not 
hear what was said. Nor did he try to listen for he 
realized they did not want him to know what they 
were talking about. A few seconds later, when the 
whispered conference was over and they turned 
back to the bed, it was to see Jim, pale and erect, 
standing beside it, one firm, though dirty, hand, laid 
in a protecting way on his grandfather’s shoulder. 

“ I know I’m only thirteen years old,” he began, 
stumbling over his words as though afraid of being 
interrupted, “ and perhaps you think I’m too young 
to pay much attention to, but you shan’t do a thing 
to my grandfather, ’less you tell me all about it. I 
know we ain’t much company to each other, and we 
fight, too, but he’s all I’ve got and — ,” here Jim 
broke down. He slipped to his knees and hid his 
face in the bedclothes. 

Sam leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. 
Mr. Jones closed the blinds and thus shut out the 
glaring light. The room grew cool and comfort- 
able again and for a moment the only sound was the 
labored breathing of the gray-haired man on the 
old-fashioned bed. Then Dr. Brown spoke softly 
to the still kneeling boy whose face was hidden in 
the big feather pillow. “ Jim, my boy,” he said, 
“ look up. I want to ask you something. How 
long have you known me ? ” 

Surprised at the question, the boy slowly rose to 
his feet and faced the doctor. “ Why, all my life, 
Dr. Brown,” he answered ; “ why do you ask me 
that?” 


JIM DECIDES 


29 


“ That’s so, my lad, and I knew your father and 
mother before you were born. And Sam has known 
your grandfather even longer than that. You be- 
lieve that we both want to do the best thing for 
your grandfather, don’t you? Of course you do. 
Well, then, Mr. Jones, his other oldest friend, has 
decided with us that — that is — we want — ” he 
glanced up at the men standing beside him as though 
waiting for them to finish the sentence for him. 

“You see, Jim,” began Mr. Jones, and, sitting 
in a chair he drew the boy down on his knee, 44 Sam 
and I’ve said 4 yes ’ to what the doctor thinks ’s the 
only thing to be done for your grandfather and so 
we — that is — I — hope you’ll consent, too. Sam 
and I might almost be considered next of kin with 
you, you know.” 

44 Mebbe we’d orter hev hed you listen, too, when 
th’ doctor wuz a talking,” said Sam, 44 but yer know 
you air young, an’ — ” 

44 1 know that all right,” indignantly interrupted 
the boy, a bright red spot appearing on either cheek, 
44 but I guess I’ll know what you want to do to my 
grandfather or you don’t do it, that’s all.” 

44 You are older than I thought, Jim,” said the 
doctor, gravely. 44 Years do not always count. I’m 
sorry to have misjudged you. I’ll tell you all about 
the operation and then I think you’ll consent to it 
as quickly as Sam and Mr. Jones did. For of 
course I need your permission before I can do any- 
thing.” 

44 Operation ? Oh, Dr. Brown ! ” 


30 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Don’t be frightened about it, Jim, it isn’t so bad 
as it sounds. Call Ellen in to take our place and 
I’ll tell you all about it.” 

In a few minutes Dr. Brown and Jim were alone 
on the porch. Sam was hard at work again with 
Skip and the latter’s father had gone to the barn to 
get the horse and buggy. Jim drew a long breath 
and looked up in the doctor’s face. “ Well, my 
boy,” the doctor began, “ when your grandfather 
was flung out of the tree, two things happened. He 
fell on his head as well as his back. Partial paraly- 
sis resulted, owing to bruised nerves, and concus- 
sion of the brain, because his skull was crushed. A 
little bit of bone presses on the brain. That’s why 
he’s unconscious. Time, rest and quiet will cure 
his paralysis, but nothing will restore his mind save 
an operation.” The man stopped abruptly and 
looked searchingly into the white face up-turned to 
his. The boy never flinched. 

“ Do you mean,” he said, “ that if the operation 
fails, he’ll die? ” 

“ Yes, Jim, just that.” 

“ Well, please wait a minute, I’ll come back.” 
He walked to the end of the porch and stood there 
for some time, silently looking up at the trees on the 
slope of the mountain. When he returned, the ex- 
pression of his face had quite changed. He was still, 
of course, the same Jim Burton, but something, a 
certain, new expression to 1 his eyes, and a firmness 
around his strong mouth and chin, showed that here 


JIM DECIDES 31 

was, indeed, a new boy. He began to speak at 
once. 

“ Dr. Brown, do you know where my father is ? ” 

“ No, Jim, your grandfather’s the only one who 
knows that” 

“ And he can’t tell.” 

“ Well, not now, of course.” 

“ Then, we must have that operation. Right 
away, I s’pose.” 

“ The sooner the better, Jim.” The doctor drew 
a long breath of relief. The matter was settled 
easier than he thought it would be. For a few mo- 
ments the two sat in silence. Then the doctor said, 
“ Jim, what made you look up at the mountain in 
that way just now? ” 

“ Because,” the boy hesitated and flushed. Then 
with an embarrassed smile he added, “ I was afraid 
to say ‘ yes,’ but I knew I’d have to, — about the 
operation, I mean, — if I ever was to find out about 
my father, so I just — well, you see, it’s just this 
way, Dr. Brown, I can’t explain it ’xactly, but I — ” 

“ Well, Jim, what is it?” questioned the doctor, 
in a helpful way. 

“ Well, it’s the trees. You see, they’re like real 
people to me. Ever since I can remember I’ve told 
’em things. They make me feel better, somehow, 
whenever I’m with ’em, and just now, when I looked 
up there at ’em, trying to decide what to do, I wasn’t 
afraid about my grandfather. They told me not to 
worry.” He stopped in some confusion and looked 


32 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

rather ashamed. “ I s’pose you think Em silly,” he 
shyly added. 

“ Far from it, my lad,” kindly replied the doctor. 
“ I think you wiser than a good many men. It 
seems to me that you’ve gotten close to nature, and 
the Unfailing One back of us all, man as well as 
nature. Tell me some more of these good friends 
of yours. What kind of a tree do you like 
best?” 

“ Well, the old grey oak, right there, has always 
been my favorite,” promptly answered Jim, “ and 
so I like all oaks better than any other kind of a tree. 
It was awfully hard to see it go ; but now it’s hap- 
pened, I don’t care so much as I thought I would. 
Kinder funny, ain’t it? I guess I’d better get down 
there now and help Sam and Skip get those roots 
out. I bet they’re tough things tO' tackle.” 

“ No, wait,” said the doctor, “ I want to ask you 
about that operation.” 

“ Oh, yes,” and Jim sat down again, all atten- 
tion. 

“ We’d better have it day after to-morrow, Jim. 
I’ll telegraph for a nurse and a doctor to come from 
Burlington to help me and then, soon, I hope, your 
grandfather’ll be quite himself again. You, how- 
ever, will have to bear the brunt of the hard farm 
work from this time on. With Sam’s help, of 
course, — for Mr. Burton will never be so strong 
again as he has been; and many times you’ll have 
to decide for both, as he, up to this time, has de- 
cided for you. But I have no doubt you’ll be quite 


JIM DECIDES 33 

capable. You’ve shown so much good sense to-day 
I’m sure you can be relied upon.” 

“ I don’t know about that, Dr. Brown,” replied 
the boy, pleased with the commendation, “ but I’ll 
try to do all right ; till my grandfather’s better, any 
way, and as soon as he is, we must make him send 
for my father. Don’t it beat the Dutch, the way 
things turn out ? He was going to tell me all about 
my father, this old, shut-up house and everything, 
on Sunday, when he had time. And now, look at 
him. Oh, Dr. Brown, he must get well ! You must 
cure him ! I’m glad that most of the farm’s sold, 
anyway. For that’ll make the summer’s work just 
so much easier. I s’pose you know about the col- 
lege fellers who are coming up here to-morrow or 
the next day? Well, now, Dr. Brown, where’ d we 
better have that operation ? ” 

“ That’s just what I wanted to ask you, Jim. I 
should think the room in the rear of the one he’s 
in now would be all right. Then we can move him 
right back again before he comes out of the ether 
Suppose we go and look at it now.” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE STORY OF THE OLD STONE HOUSE 



'HE evening work on the farm was done. 


Sam tipped his chair back and, crossing his 
feet on the railing of the kitchen porch, lighted his 
pipe. It was his usual custom to pass a comfortable 
half hour in this way before going to bed. Mr. 
Jones had taken his place in the sick room and they 
had sent Ellen home for a good rest. Everything 
was so peaceful and quiet that before Sam knew it 
he had fallen fast asleep. He was quite tired out 
from worry and extra work. But his rest was not 
to be a long one. In a few minutes Blackie came 
flying around the corner of the house, and scam- 
pering over the lawn, sprang up in his lap. Then 
followed the boys, so full of subdued fun and laugh- 
ter that Sam knew, as he lazily opened his eyes, his 
only refuge now would be in his room. 

“ Wal,” he good-naturedly asked, as he refilled 
his pipe, “what’s up?” 

“ Dad’s going to let me stay all night,” began 
Skip, and he made an ineffectual attempt to snatch 
Blackie from her resting place; “ and you’re to tell 
us a story.” 

“ Oh, thet so ? ” queried Sam. “ I wanter know.” 


34 


THE OLD STONE HOUSE 


35 


“ So do we,” the boy replied. He stretched out 
lazily in the hammock. “ All about this house, too. 
So go ahead and begin.” 

“Eh?” Sam looked in a questioning way at 
Jim. He, sitting on the low step, and leaning 
against the porch rail, was dreamily gazing up to 
the mysterious shadows on the mountains. “ Eh, 
Jim,” the man repeated, “who said so? Cum back 
ter airth ag’in an’ pay ’tention. Stop yer gazin’.” 

Jim turned to him with a laugh. “ All right, 
Sam, I’m here,” he replied. “ Yes, at last you can 
tell us the story of this house. Dr. Brown said it 
would be all right. You know we’ve got to open 
it to-morrow and air it out for the nurse and doc- 
tor, and when I told Dr. Brown and Skip’s father 
I had never been through it, they said it was high 
time I had and for you to tell me all about it — 
Skip can hear, of course.” 

“ Wal, I d’know’s your grandpa’d — ” 

“ Don’t worry about that,” interrupted Jim, “ for 
I’ll take all the responsibility, and you know, Sam, he 
said he was going to tell me ’bout my father on 
Sunday, so he wouldn’t mind if you told me the 
story of the house. I just bet he wouldn’t for he’s 
always said he’d tell me about it just as soon as he 
thought I was old enough to ’predate things. Seems 
to me I’ve grown to be a hundred years old since 
yesterday, so I’m old ’nough now if I’m ever going 
to be.” 

“ I should think,” laughed Sam, “ that agin’ et 
thet rate, yer’d orter be old ’nough ter be told most 


36 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

anything. Wal, come in th’ kitchen, then, an’ light 
up. If I’m a-goin’ ter tell this yarn, yer kin bet 
yer bottom dollar I’m a-goin’ ter tell it right stret 
from th’ beginnin’. So we’d better go in. It’ll 
take some time an’ I’ll git th’ rheumatiz if I stay 
out here any longer, river’s kinder damp ter-night.” 

As they followed him, the boys nudged each other 
and beamed with delight. Sam loved to tell a story 
and this was one they had wanted to hear and he 
to tell ever since they could remember. 

Jim carefully put Blackie in her basket at the back 
of the stove. Then he and Skip sat on the floor 
and began to whittle on some boats they were mak- 
ing to sail in the brook. After lighting the big 
lampvwhich hung from the ceiling, Sam drew up a 
low rocking-chair and, sitting down between the two 
boys, toasted his stockinged feet. He had taken 
off his shoes and the glowing coals in the open grate 
of the stove sent a warm and cheerful hue over all. 

“ Wal,” he began, “ this house wuz a-buildin’ 
long before th’ war, when Jim’s grandpa and my 
father, name wuz Thomas Evers, cum along up 
here from N’ York, a-lookin’ for work.” 

“ Seems to me if they had wanted work very 
bad,” laughed Jim, “ they could have found it be- 
tween New York and Pittsford.” 

“ Wal, I don’ know ’bout thet,” mused Sam, “ I 
think their health broke down from workin’ too 
hard in th’ city. Wal, anyway, they cum a-trompin’ 
along an’ when they got’s fer’s this place, they jest 
nat’chlly took root. They wuz both on ’em car- 


THE OLD STONE HOUSE 


37 


penters, an’ smart, likely chaps, too. Mr. Burton 
wuz a master carpenter, an’ my father wuz his 
’prentice. He wuz seventeen an’ t’other wuz 
twenty. Thar hed bin some difficulty ’tween th’ 
boss builder of this house, he owned it, too, an’ 
some of th’ men. He’d only let ’em work jest 
when and whar he wanted ’em to. He hed a norful 
temper an’ would discharge any one he didn’t take 
a fancy to, right on th’ spot in a minute. Th’ 
house wuz up ter th’ second story an’ th’ boss 
workin’ on it all alone when Mr. Burton an’ father 
hove in sight. They’d bin boardin’ fer a spell in 
Pittsford an’ o’ course hed heard tell of th’ crazy 
man an’ his house. So, havin’ nothin’ else on hand 
one pleasant arternoon, they walked out here ter 
see what wuz a-doin’. Old man Crooker, thet 
wuz his name — he’d bought th’ land th’ year be- 
fore an’ cum from parts ter th’ south ter farm it — 
wuz havin’ a mighty hard time ’ith beams an’ things 
he couldn’t hist alone. So, Mr. Burton an’ father, 
bein’ good-natured an’ willin’ an’ hevin’ no grudge 
agin him, offered to help. Thet’s how it began. 
They worked till dark thet day an’ I guess it didn’t 
take old man Crooker long ter see they wuz good 
carpenters all right, fer he engaged them to come 
th’ next day. Of course they wuz advised not to, 
but they did. An’ they kep’ on, tew. He paid ’em 
reg’lar an’ said he’d sont fer his relatives ter help 
him out an’ if they’d stay till he wuz fixed he’d make 
it all right with them. So they stayed, an’ arter- 
ward, too. They rigged up kind of a tent an’ shack 


38 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

arrangement on th’ slope of th’ mountain, jest over 1 
th’ bridge, an’ stayed till cold weather sot in. By 
thet time they’d earned some money an’ what wuz 
better, they found they wuz both well — plumb 
healthy, both on ’em — sound as a rivet. Outdoor 
air in Vermont carn’t be beat, I tell yer, boys, an’ 
I s’pose ’twas th’ same then as now. Wal, thar 
wuz high jinks, you bet, while th’ house wuz a-build- 
in’ thet summer an’ fall. 

“ Th’ natives, who’d helped till th’ outsiders cum, 
wanted ter continue on th’ job, fer ’twas good money 
an’ work both. So they objected ter Crooker’s 
bringin’ in his own folks. But he said he didn’t 
care, he guessed he’d build his house ’thout th’ help 
o’ any pryin’ Yankees, an’ he done it. They tried 
ter hender him all they could, but ’twa’n’t no use, he 
won out. An’ his relations cum, four men ’sides 
himself. Brothers an’ cousins, an’ he wouldn’t let 
no one else, ’sides our folks, step foot within a hun- 
dred yards of th’ place. He took turns with his 
own people, watchin’ out at night with a gun. Mr. 
Burton an’ father must a-been perty foxy th’ way 
they managed him an’ his crowd, an’ th’ natives, 
too, fer they kep’ on good terms with everybody. 
An’ old man Crooker treated them same’s he treated 
th’ discharged ones. They wuz allowed to work 
only when an’ whar th’ boss pleased. But he 
treated ’em decent, they wuz makin’ money an’ 
learnin’ more about their trade all th’ time, so they 
stayed. Bymby, Crooker’s wimin folks cum. 
Then, ’twant long before th’ big house wuz fur- 


THE OLD STONE HOUSE 


39 


nished from top ter bottom with th’ best there wuz 
in th’ furniture line frum N’ York, Bostin, an’ 
Montreal. When they wuz done they put out a 
sign, ‘ The Grey Oak Inn,’ an’ wuz ready fur bis- 
niss. In a short time th’ hotel wuz known far an’ 
wide. People, cornin’ across th’ mountains, would 
stop on their way to Lake Champlain sight-seein’, 
or t’other way round, an’ those who went or cum 
frum Canady, sometimes would stay over to view 
th’ scenery an’ enjoy Mis’ Crooker’s prime cookin’. 
She could bake th’ best pies yer ever see, or tasted,” 
he added, as an afterthought. “ By thet time, my 
father, who’d gone back ter N’ York, wuz married, 
an’ Mr. Burton, who’d stayed here, had married 
Mis’ Crooker’s second cousin an’ bin taken into 
th’ hotel bisniss.” 

“ Why,” interrupted Skip, “ you said there were 
brothers and cousins. I should think they’d have 
come first.” 

“ But it turned out they weren’t no relation ’tall,” 
chuckled Sam. “ They wuz ready-made fer th’ ’ca- 
sion, an’ arterwards turned back ter what they had 
bin before, about th’ cleverest band o’ counterfeiters 
in all th’ United States, an’ old man Crooker wuz th’ 
boss.” 

The boys, who long ago had dropped their whit- 
tling, drew nearer the story teller. 

“ Oh, Sam,” cried Skip, “honest?” 

“ Yep, an’ this hotel bisniss wuz jest a blind ter 
give folks a reasin ’bout his bein’ here. Yer see, 
it wuz mighty handy ter th’ Canadian border, an’ 


40 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


they made both American an’ English money, or 
what passed as sich. An’ then Crooker’d got so 
much saved up, he could afford ter take things easy 
an’ he jest loved th’ country an’ farmin’. No one 
suspected th’ truth, till all of a sudden th’ United 
States Marshall swooped down on Pittsford one 
night an’ swore in some dep’ty sheriffs an’ started 
out ter arrest th’ hull gang.” 

“ Where was my grandfather, then? ” asked Jim. 

“ Wal, I’ll hev ter go back a bit. Eve told my 
story too fast. Old man Crooker’d deeded his farm 
’n everything he possessed ter his wife, an arter 
thet th’ second cousin wuz ter inherit. She thet wuz 
yer grandma, yer know. He’d kep’ it so secret, 
however, thet yer grandpop never knew a thing, 
either ’bout thet, or th’ old man’s real bisniss. An’, 
when th’ hotel trade would be kinder slack, an’ they 
seemed ter need more money, he’d go off an’ work 
at his trade fer a spell. He wuz away on a trip 
of this kind when th’ partners cum fer one of their 
usual visits. They wuz always careful to cum 
when th’ coast wuz clear of Mr. Burton, too. Wal, 
they wuz all hard at work a-counterfeitin’ when th’ 
Marshall an’ his sheriffs arrived.” 

“ But, Sam,” interrupted Jim, “ how could they 
work and no one find it out even if grandpa wasn’t 
there? I should think they’d leave signs of some 
kind around.” 

“ I’m a-comin’ ter all thet, jest you give me time,” 
answered Sam, and he leaned down to shake the fire. 
“ I won’t forgit nor leave out a blessed thing. Wal, 


THE OLD STONE HOUSE 


4i 


yer grandma ’n Mis’ Crooker wuz a-settin’ on th’ 
porch with one of th’ ‘ cousins/ when all of a sud- 
den, th’ men frum th’ village hove in sight. They 
rid up so silent thet before th’ wimmin knew it, they 
wuz prisoners, for of course it wuz supposed they 
knew all about it, but they never, not a single thing, 
till they wuz told arterwards. So they wuz locked 
up in one o’ th’ settin’ rooms till th’ shootin’ wuz 
over.” 

“ Oh,” breathed Skip. 

“ Must hev bin kinder lively fer a few minutes,” 
mused Sam, smiling in a satisfied way at the suc- 
cess of his story, “ fer th’ 4 cousin ’ drew his re- 
volver an’ before they could stop him, fired five 
shots right stret up in th’ air as fast’s he could, one 
right after th’ other. Then he dropped dead. Th’ 
Marshall thought he'd shot him, when he let his 
own gun go off, but he hadn’t. He hed a weak 
heart, they found out arterwards, an’ th’ last thing 
he did, before he died from th’ excitement, wuz to 
warn his partners. ’Twas s’posed thet wuz th’ 
reason he fired off those shots, fer he certainly 
didn’t aim at nobody. Wal, this rumpus over, th’ 
men surrounded th’ house as fast’s they could, an’ 
when they reached th’ barn, there wuz old man 
Crooker, a-milkin’ th’ cow as cool as you please. 
Wa’n’t he a cute one ? ‘ Hullo,’ he said, when they 

crowded in at th’ door, ‘ want to put yer horse up ? 
Be thar in a minute.’ He never turned a hair. 
Wal, they nabbed him, you bet, an’ thet made three. 
The first one had been caught passin’ some of th’ 


* 


42 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


worthless coin off, to Portland, an’ wuz so scared 
he give th’ hull thing away. Thet’s how th’ gov’- 
ment found out Crooker’s whereabouts. They’d 
bin layin’ fer him fer some time. So they promised 
this man an easy sentence fer tellin’ an’ he got out 
of jail soon fer good behavior. I guess he wuz 
what people call ‘ a fence.’ But he couldn’t hev told 
much, anyway, fer he’d never seen th’ secret room. 
We read about him not so very long ago in th’ news- 
papers. He’s bin sent ter th’ lunitic ’sylum — 
crazy as a loon. Th’ paper says he’s determined ter 
kill some one but they can’t make out who, so hev 
locked him up ter keep him from murderin’ th’ 
hull cummunity. But I guess th’ real gist of th’ 
matter wuz that he must hev been so awful lone- 
some, no one havin’ anything ter do with him, that 
he jest went crazy. Wal — ter git bn with my 
yarn. They wuz a takin’ old man Crooker around 
ter th’ front of th’ house ter tie him ter a hoss an’ 
lead him ter th’ village lockup, when some more 
shots wuz heard on t’other side of th’ bridge. 
Number Four wuz caught. One of th’ dep’tys got 
him but he hed ter shoot him first.” 

“ Killed him ? ” asked Skip, with a little shiver 
of excitement. 

“ Nope, but he died in th’ jail, soon arter wards. 
An’ th’ fifth one they never found. Number 
Four said he’d run on an’ escaped, but if he did he 
made th’ cleanest and quickest get-away ever heard 
tell of in these parts. No one’s ever seen hide nor 


THE OLD STONE HOUSE 


43 

hair of Job Greenough since. Wal, it’s gittin’ kinder 
late, ain’t it?” 

“ Oh, Sam, don’t stop now,” pleaded the hoys, 
and Jim added, “ I’ll work harder than ever, to- 
morrow, Sam, even if I am sitting up later than 
usual to-night, only please do finish.” 

Nothing loth, Sam good-naturedly settled back in 
his chair again, saying as he did so, “ Wal, see 
that yer do when th’ time fer action comes. I 
s’pose I might’s well finish an’ git it over with, too. 
Thar ain’t so very much more, anyway. Old man 
Crooker jest closed his lips tight’s he could an’ from 
that day ter th’ day he died, never mentioned th’ 
subject ter a livin’ soul. Th’ authorities sont fer 
Mr. Burton, who wuz ter Albany, and he cum’s 
quick’s he could, an’ got here jest in time ter see 
his wife before she left him.” 

“ What’d she do that for?” interrupted Skip. 

“ Couldn’t help herself, my boy. She died. Her 
baby, your father, Jim, wuz only a few days old. 
Purty tough, warn’t it ? Th’ shock of th’ whole busi- 
ness, coming like a flash of lightnin’ out of a clear 
sky, wuz more than she could stand. Fer that wuz 
th’ very furst she’d known of it, an’ she’d always 
called th’ old man her pa. Fer some time after this, 
your grandfather wuz purty nigh crazy. He wuz 
under suspicion, of course, an’ hed ter work night 
an’ day an’ good an’ hard, before th’ Gov’ment de- 
clared its belief in his innercence. After a while, 
however, they did, an’ though they cum mighty nigh 


44 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


confiscatin’ everything, they finally allowed of him 
ter inherit. But by thet time his money hed all 
gone and all he did git wuz th’ farm, an’ it’s bin 
purty hard scrambling ever since. Wal, he’d taken 
such a mortal aversion ter th’ house, his wife dyin’ 
there, an’ all, thet he shut it up an’ built th’ exten- 
sion. He sont fer my father ter cum an’ help, so 
thet’s th’ way I happened here. I wuz a baby then 
an’ pa an’ ma wuz glad of a chance to raise me in 
th’ country. So we cum, a-totin’ all our things an’ 
when th’ old folks died, Mr. Burton buried ’em 
alongside his wife in th’ village cemetery. Yer pa 
an’ I, Jim, grew up tergether. Mis’ Crooker took 
care of him’s long as she could stand it. Yer see, 
they wuz all bein’ watched by th’ Gov’ment, an’ it 
made her so nervous it finally broke her spirit. So 
she left an’ went to live right under th’ walls of th’ 
prison, an’ when her husband at last wuz free, th’ 
furst thing they did, wuz ter commit suicide. He 
couldn’t stand bein’ found out an’ she didn’t have 
’nough gumption ter go contrary ter anything he 
said. Wal, ter go back a spell. When the 
Gov’ment found out thet he warn’t goin’ ter tell ’em 
nothin’ ’bout th’ counterfeitin’ plant he wuz s’posed 
ter hev here, they cum an’ turned things upside down 
gener’lly. Th’ didn’t see anything incriminatin’ in 
th’ house. A few tools an’ a machine wuz found 
tucked away in th’ wood-shed, ’nough ter keep ’em 
frum searchin’' further, an’ they pretended they hed 
found out all there wuz to find out, but no one be- 
lieved ’em. Else, why did they advertize fer Job 


THE OLD STONE HOUSE 


45 


Greenough, th’ fifth partner? An’ why did they 
keep a watchin’ of an’ a pesterin’ th’ one they called 
a fence? An a tryin’ ter make him confess? Th’ 
account in th’ paper th’ other day spoke of that 
time an’ said as how ’twas thought that th’ constant 
watchin’ of him then hed mor’n anythin’ else to do 
with sendin’ him ter th’ ’sylum. Wal, they offered 
a reward fer $500 fer th’ capture of Job Greenough, 
dead or alive; hasn’t ever been claimed. Nor th’ 
extry $500 fer th’ discovery of any more tools or 
machinery, either. So, fellers, if you could make 
thet crazy man talk sense, or if you can find out 
what th’ United States detectives couldn’t there’s a 
reward of a thousand dollars waiting fer you. An’ 
though no one could trace it to its source, ever since 
I can remember, I’ve heard tell of th’ rumor about 
th’ secret room in th’ house, thet, once found, would 
tell th’ hull story. 

“ An’ now it’s time fer bed, I tell yew. Why, it 
must be all o’ ten o’clock. I’ll close up; but jest 
you bear this in mind, young fellers, how hard th’ 
way of th’ transgressor is, an’ more’n thet, see th’ 
sorrow th’ counterfeiters brought on innercent 
wimmin an’ children’s well as punishment ter them- 
selves.” 

“ My, but I’m stiff,” laughed Skip, as he scram- 
bled to his feet. “ Thank you ever so much, Sam, 
it’s a bully story. And you bet I’ll be content with 
only what real money I can make, and honestly, too. 
What are you thinking about, Jim; what makes you 
look so sober ? ” 


4 6 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ I was wondering if my father ever tried to get 
that reward. Did he, Sam?” 

“ Yer’ll hev ter arsk yer granddad ’bout thet,” 
answered the man, in a noncommittal way. “ I 
cam’t tell yer nothin’ ’bout yer pa. Now, git along 
ter bed, dew! ” 

“ Well, whether he did or not, I know Fm going 
to hunt for that reward,” said Jim. He lighted a 
candle and preceded his friend up the steep stairs 
to his little room. “ For, as I’ve already said, I’ll 
need all the money I can get to help me find my 
father with. And if you’ll hunt, too, Skip, of course 
you’ll come in for your share, as well. Will you? ” 
“You better believe I will,” laughed the boy. 
“ When can we begin ? It will be the greatest fun 
we’ve ever had, won’t it? Of course the money’ll 
all belong to you, Jim, I wouldn’t think of taking 
a cent. The fun of the search’ll be all the reward 
I’ll ask for. And if we do find the secret room, we 
can play burglars and all sorts of things, can’t we? ” 
“ Uh, huh,” sleepily answered Jim. “ I only 
hope my grandfather won’t tell me I can’t. But 
I don’t believe he will. When he finds I know all 
about it, I guess he’ll be willing for me to hunt any- 
way. And I might find what the others didn’t. 
Well, I’m too sleepy to talk about it any more to- 
night, but we’ll begin the first thing in the morning 
to look for that thousand-dollar reward. Do you 
s’pose we’ll find, it? ” 


CHAPTER V 


THE SEARCH FOR THE SECRET ROOM 

np RUE to his promise, Jim was up long before 
-*• his usual time the next morning. Leaving 
Skip, and, in the next room, Sam, both sound asleep, 
he softly stole downstairs. As he tiptoed over the 
yellow painted floor of the kitchen his bare feet 
made no sound, and soon he was running through 
the dew-sparkled grass to the barnyard. Blackie 
scampered after him. A few clucking hens scat- 
tered right and left from his path. At the barn door 
he stopped and turned to watch the early morning 
sun peer at him as it rose slowly over the awakening 
hills. The sky was without a cloud and indicated 
clear, though warm weather. It was very pleasant 
standing there in the fresh glow of a new day, but 
certain impatient sounds from within told Jim of 
his duties and if he wished to help Sam, he must 
begin work at once. So, unhasping the door and 
rolling each side back on its iron wheel and groove, 
he stepped into the big, cobwebby barn. The left 
side was filled with hay lofts, now almost empty, 
and a small harness room. On the other side, 
facing the center, were the feed bins and stalls for 
Judge and Nelly, who now stamped and rattled their 
head-gear over their mangers as they whinnied for 
47 


48 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


their breakfast. At the far end of the barn, near 
the other big doors, which Jim soon opened, was 
fastened “ Lazy Bones,” the cow. When released, 
she slowly made her way out to the barnyard and 
stood beneath an apple tree, waiting to be milked. 
This tree leaned over a moss-covered stone wall, 
and was one of many in an old orchard. At the 

foot of most of the gnarled trunks were wooden 

coops, from which, as Jim freed them, came many 
fussing hens and chickens, all clamoring for some- 
thing to eat. 

“ Shoo, shoo,” laughed Jim. He hurried among 
them to the edge of the orchard where a net en- 
closure, jutting out into the brook, made a fine 
home for a number of yellow geese and ducklings. 
“ Wait, you old biddy, you’re a regular 4 fuss 
budget.’ Wait, till I can let your cousins out and 

then I’ll feed you all at the same time,” he said 

to a particularly noisy hen. “ I wonder if hens and 
ducks are related anyway,” he thought. “ I’m sure 
I don’t see why they shouldn’t be. Now then, 
biddy, you greedy old thing, here’s your breakfast. 
Come, biddy, biddy, biddy ! ” And, scattering a 
goodly supply of grain’ on the grass and filling the 
pans with fresh water from the brook, he left the 
hens and ducks pecking at their meal and at one 
another, and hurried back to the barn. Here, he 
discovered Skip, who, still rubbing his sleepy eyes, 
was busily engaged in feeding the horses. 

“ Good for you,” said Jim, and he sat down to 
milk the cow. 


THE SECRET ROOM 


49 


“ You might have called a feller, Jim,” his friend 
answered. “ I meant to help, all right, only I had 
such a hard time waking up.” He leaned down in 
the doorway and played with Blackie who was wait- 
ing for the warm milk she always had given her at 
this time. 

“ There’s hardly work enough for two,” answered 
Jim. “ I wanted you to sleep, if you could. No 
need for us both to get up so early as I did. Will 
you feed Cuba now? Then we’ll be through.” 

“ Why do you call the pig, Cuba ? ” asked Skip. 

“ Because she’s almost wise enough to care for 
herself, like the island, but not quite,” laughed Jim. 
“ Sam named her.” 

“ He’s a funny man, isn’t he ? ” Skip replied, 
starting out to the pigpen with the pail of meal and 
scraps which had already been prepared by Jim. “ I 
left him in the kitchen getting breakfast. Does he 
always do the cooking? ” 

“ Yes, the breakfast. Grandpa cooks the dinner 
and I do the supper; that is, when I don’t forget,” 
he laughed. “ But now I s’pose Sam’ll do grand- 
pa’s part, though I guess I could, at a pinch. It’s 
funny, grandpa’s not being willing to have any one 
’cept men and boys in the house, isn’t it ? ” 

“ Yes, why do you s’pose it is? ” 

“ Sam says it’s because he can’t bear to see any 
one in my grandmother’s place. Well, come on! 
Hope breakfast’s ready for I’m hungry as a 
bear.” 

“ And then, hurrah for the counterfeiters’ den,” 


50 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


cried Skip. “ I looked in your grandfather’s room 
when I came downstairs and pa says he’s just the 
same.” 

“ Yes,” Jim replied. He walked soberly toward 
the house, carrying the pail full of rich, yellow milk. 
“ I spoke to him and took his hand, too, but he 
never moved. So if we do make a noise in the 
house he won’t know it. And, Skip, I’ve just got 
to find that secret room, if there is one, even if we 
have to knock a wall down. I dreamed about it 
last night. I dreamed I’d found it and that the 
crazy counterfeiter had swallowed the key, after 
locking me in. Did you dream anything? ” 

“ Nope ; never knew a thing till Sam called me. 
Oh, I’m a fine sleeper all right,” he laughed. “ I 
never have time to dream, I’m so busy sleeping.” 

During breakfast the boys talked of nothing save 
the secret room and were sadly disappointed when 
Sam insisted that the work be finished on the oak 
tree first. 

“No siree,” he said in answer to a protest from 
Jim, “you must clean up the tree furst, Jim, or th’ 
work never’ll be done an’ I ain’t a-goin’ ter hev no 
city doctor an’ trained nusses, wimmin folks, too, 
a-comin’ into no messy yard like that. Yer 
grandpa’d be mad at yer.” 

“ Well,” Jim answered, “ I s’pose you’re right, 
Sam.” He pushed his chair from the table. “If 
I go out now, will you do the dishes? ” 

“ Yep, jest you skeedaddle an’ leave th’ kitchen 
ter me, and,” he added under his breath, “ if yer 


THE SECRET ROOM 


5i 

ain’t purty much surprised in about a minute, I’ll 
miss my guess.” 

The boys reluctantly walked through the hall to 
the front of the house. When they stepped out on 
the porch, such a welcome sight met their gaze they 
could scarcely believe their eyes. Not a vestige of 
the tree was to be seen. The hole made by the 
roots and trunk had been filled in, tramped down 
and sodded. The lawn was smooth and clean as 
usual. Both it and the road in front of the house 
looked, Jim said, “ As though they had been raked 
with a fine-toothed comb.” 

“ Well, there ! ” laughed Skip. “ I want to know ! 
Who did it? They’re the best ever, anyway, who- 
ever they are; don’t you think so, Jim? ” 

The other did not answer at once. Instead he 
climbed one of the piazza’s pillars and looked up 
the road. Then, dropping down beside his com- 
panion, he said : “ The Italians did it. There they 

go, now, in their cart.” 

“ Yes, boys,” said Mr. Jones, who joined them 
for a moment on his way home, “ they were so sorry 
when they found out what they’d done, that they 
came back last night to ask if they might clean 
up. So I said 'yes,’ You had gone to bed, Jim, 
but I thought you wouldn’t mind.” 

“ Mind ! ” The boy looked up at him with a 
cheerful grin. “ I’ll try to get over it.” They all 
laughed. 

“ Wal, here air th’ keys.” Sam, who had come 
up just then, thrust them into the boy’s outstretched 


52 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


hand. To Skip he gave a lighted candle in a glass 
chimney. “ It’ll be dark at th’ end of th’ hall,” he 
added, “ but look out thet yer don’t set nothin’ afire. 
Open all th’ windows an’ blinds an’ leave them so. 
Thar’s some of th’ top story rooms I ain’t never 
bin in, your grandpa never thought ’twas necessary 
to open ’em all, but this warm sunlight’s jest th’ 
thing ter dry out all those musty corners up thar, 
so off yer go! ” 

The boys started eagerly for the stairs. Then 
Jim turned. “Will you come with us, Sam?” he 
asked. 

“ No, most of it’s an old story to me, my boy. 
I’ve aired an’ dusted up thar all I want to, thank 
yer. I’ll stay with yer grandpa an’ ketch th’ ghosts 
as you send ’em down.” He disappeared with a 
laugh into the sick room. 

Mr. Jones was now well on his way toward home, 
so the boys, glad to do their exploring alone, ran 
up the broad, low stairs to the gloom of the second 
story. 

At the top of the staircase they paused, uncertain 
which way to turn, for, crossing the hall, which 
ran directly over the one on the first floor, was an- 
other and longer passage. This led to the shadowy 
ends of the house. At last Jim decided the ques- 
tion. He went to the window which was over the 
door leading to the kitchen and pulled up the sash. 
Then he unbarred and threw back the heavy, wooden 
shutters and looked out toward the glen. The 
peaked roof of the extension was on a level with 


THE SECRET ROOM 


53 


the window-sill. But as the cool, fragrant breath 
from the hills and the light of the hot sun could 
not penetrate far through the one window, the boys, 
still keeping together, hurried to the other end of 
the hall to open the window there. Then, running 
down the passageway toward the village, they also 
opened a storm door. This gave on a small, railed- 
in balcony and thus let still more welcome light and 
sunshine in to dispel the gloom and murk which 
had gathered during many quiet years. The boys 
needed the encouragement of all the sunlight they 
could get. The noiseless, mysterious rooms behind 
the white walls seemed filled with all sorts of secrets. 
And then Jim fitted the key to the door nearest the 
balcony, but before he could turn it, Skip exclaimed : 

“ Don’t do that yet, Jim, let’s begin at the top. 
Then we can work our way down, and we haven’t 
opened the window at the other end of this passage 
yet, either. If we do that, we’ll make a draught 
and then the air’ll be better.” 

“All right, we’ll do that first and then, which 
staircase shall we go up? For there’s one at each 
end of this long hall.” 

“ That’s so, for the one in the center of the house 
doesn’t go up to the third floor, does it? Well, I’ll 
tell you what. You go and open the window. I’ll 
wait for you here and then we’ll both be at the foot 
of a staircase. Let’s go up and meet on the floor 
above.” 

“ But s’pose it’s arranged differently up there ? ” 

“ Then that will be an adventure,” laughed Skip. 


54 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ All right, if you’re not afraid of ‘ spooks,’ I’m 
sure I’m not,” answered Jim. He turned and ran 
to the other end of the passage. In a few minutes 
he was leaning out of the window, looking across 
the brook to the mountain, and Skip had to call 
him more than once before he started to mount the 
circular staircase which led to the third and top 
story. He had scarcely arrived when he gave a 
little cry of fright and grasped the frail banister 
rail with shaking hand. His heart seemed to leap 
up in his throat. For there, out of the heavy 
atmosphere at the other end of the dark hall, ap- 
peared a flickering, thin light. To the boy’s fright- 
ened eyes it seemed to fly back and forth like a 
will-o’-the-wisp, the fairy of his younger days in 
which, at times, he still almost believed. Then, 
with a sigh of relief, he went forward to meet it. 
It was the candle which Skip now held above his 
head and waved from side to side. 

“ What’s the matter?” Skip exclaimed. “ You 
look’s though you had seen the ghost of the lost 
counterfeiter. You’re awful white.” 

" It was the candle,” Jim said, with a short, 
nervous laugh. “ I didn’t know what it was at 
first. Why didn’t you open the window at the top 
of the stairs ; or shout or something to let me know 
you were coming ? ” 

“ Forgot it, I was so curious to see whether 
you’d — ” 

“ Well, do it now,” interrupted Jim. “ And I’ll 
open the one at my end.” 


THE SECRET ROOM 


55 


Up here, on the third floor, the ceiling was so 
low and the silence so intense the boys felt far away 
from the busy world all around them. They hur- 
riedly opened the window at either end of the long 
hall, and then they both leaned from the one which 
looked on the bridge and the road which crossed 
it. The world had never seemed so attractive to 
them before. 

“ I’ll tell you what the matter is,” at last said Jim. 
“ Outside the world is making such a noise, just 
living, that we can’t bear the stillness of the dead 
in here.” 

“ My, Jim, how you talk,” giggled Skip. He 
blew out the candle and set it on the window-sill. 
“ No one’s dead in there.” He gave a backward 
nod. 

“Yes, there is, memories and things and we’re 
stirring the ghosts of ’em all up and they don’t 
like it. That’s why the house is so ‘ spooky,’ ” an- 
swered the other. He looked curiously at the broad 
window-sill. “ Say, Skip,” he continued, “ this is 
funny. This window’s got both outside and inside 
blinds.” 

“ Well, so’s the one just beneath it,” his friend 
said. He turned and tried the handle of the door 
nearest him. “ And so have the windows of the 
room your grandfather’s in. I don’t see anything 
so funny in that.” 

“ But the other hall windows haven’t and I don’t 
believe the rooms have, either.” 

“ Well, perhaps the old counterfeiter found it 


56 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

would be too expensive to do that all through the 
house, so stopped when he’d done part of it that 
way. You know Sam said he built the house by 
4 fits and starts, mostly fits.’ I s’pose he meant 
temper. But let’s go in the rooms now and see 
what we can find.” 

“ And drive the ‘ spooks ’ away,” laughingly re- 
plied his chum. “ 1 tell you what, Skip,” the boy 
added as he unlocked the door to the comer room 
and pushed it open, “ I’ve made up my mind to one 
thing, and that is, I’m not going to live in the ex- 
tension any longer.” 

“What’ll your grandfather say to that?” asked 
Skip. 

“ Don’t know yet, but it seems a pity to be cooped 
up there when all these nice rooms are furnished 
and ready to use. What was this one, I wonder? ” 

Guided by the light, which came streaming in 
through the open door, they made their way care- 
fully past many big pieces of furniture to the one 
window, which, like that in the hall, was encased 
between inside and outside blinds. This, after 
many tugs and pulls and pushes, was finally opened 
and then the character of the room was revealed. 
It was plain to be seen that Mr. Crooker had used 
it for a storeroom and carpenter shop, though why 
he should have done so, when he had so many out- 
buildings at his command, seemed, to the boys, at 
least, a queer arrangement. 

Deep, white-painted wardrobes lined the walls, 
and on each was painted in black letters its special 


THE SECRET ROOM 


57 


purpose. The one marked “ papers,” Jim opened. 
When the dust had settled he found that the shelves 
contained complete files of daily and weekly papers, 
with a few farmer’s journals, of many years ago. 
These were neatly piled on the shelves. Indeed, the 
orderliness of all the closets they looked into, im- 
pressed the boys very much. 

“ He must have been a queer old chap,” said Jim. 
He closed the closet door and ran his eye hastily 
over the carpenter’s bench and tool-chest, to the 
many old-fashioned pieces of furniture still waiting 
to be mended. “ See, here’s an easy chair, and a 
lamp on a table close by, too. I s’ pose he used to 
come up here to rest and read sometimes. What 
you doing, Skip?” 

“ Trying to get into this last closet we haven’t 
opened,” answered his friend, vainly endeavoring to 
open a door marked “ old clothes.” “ I thought per- 
haps we could find some old soldier suits or some- 
thing to dress up in and surprise the girls.” 

“ That’s a good idea,” replied Jim, “ but let’s 
come back to do that. The morning’s getting on 
and I want to finish opening the house before din- 
ner. Let’s just get a general idea of things and 
then do it all over again, one room at a time, if we 
want to.” 

“ All right.” Skip left the key in the lock of the 
closet and went back into the hall with Jim. In a 
few minutes they had opened all the doors and 
windows on that floor. The most interesting room, 
however, was the one they had first entered. It 


58 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


reflected to a great extent the character of the at- 
tractive but misguided old counterfeiter. The other 
rooms, which were arranged as sleeping apartments, 
were furnished in heavy, black walnut of the first 
half of the nineteenth century, and proved to be, 
after two or three had been examined, quite mo- 
notonous. The boys soon ran down to the second 
story. This they reached by the winding stairs at 
the end of the hall toward the village. The rooms 
they now entered were larger and more elaborately 
furnished, and, when the warm sunlight came in 
through the open windows, looked so attractive that 
Jim more than once wished he were one of a large 
family and they all lived here. By degrees they 
worked their way, opening all the doors and win- 
dows on both sides of the hall, to the center of 
the house. Here they met Sam coming up to 
them. 

“ Look out th’ windy, boys,” he said. 

They raced to the window over the front door 
and could just see, in the middle of the road, for 
the piazza roof cut off a nearer view, the tops of 
several covered carts and the heads of some people 
in two automobiles. 

“ The college people,” cried Skip. “ Oh, Jim, 
they’ve come ! ” 

“ Yep, you’ve struck it,” said the man, answering 
the exclamation. “ Ain’t yer ’bout ready ter come 
down? The boss’ll be back soon. He jest stopped 
now, long ’nough ter ask whar th’ boys thet wuz 
a-goin’ ter help him wuz, an’ when I said yer wuz 


THE SECRET ROOM 


59 

up here, a cleanin’ house, he larfed an’ said as how 
he’d come back in ’bout half an hour.” 

“ Then that’ll give us a chance to open up these 
last rooms toward the brook and wash a little, too,” 
said Jim. “ This kind of work’s awfully dusty. 
Come on and finish, Skip. You, too, Sam.” 

“ Nope. I’m busy down here, a-fixin’ things fer 
th’ doctors. Yer hain’t opened any o’ these down- 
stairs rooms yet, Jim, either.” 

“•We’ll do that in a jiffy,” answered Jim. “It 
won’t take us more’n five minutes up here.” Sam 
went downstairs. The boys returned to their work 
of investigation. Yet when they reached the corner 
room and looked up on the mountain to the site of 
the camp and saw the animated picture before them, 
they spent more than twice five minutes there. It 
was hard to leave. It was as though they had re- 
served seats at some kind of a performance. 

“ I’m just awfully glad they’ve come,” laughed 
Skip. “ Just s’pose your grandfather hadn’t sold 
the farm.” 

“ Yes, I’m glad, too, and it certainly looks as 
though we’d have some new kind of fun this sum- 
mer, doesn’t it?” replied Jim. “I wonder how 
much those fellows know about farming, anyway. 
Not so much as they think they do, I’ll bet.” 

“ And not so much as they’ll know by fall if they 
stick it out so long as that,” replied Skip. “ Well, 
come on. We’ve opened the last room. Shall we 
go down now ? ” 

“Yes; and, Skip, this room has double shutters 


6o THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


to its windows, just like the ones above and below 
it. And this is the only part of the house that has. 
Don’t you think that’s queer?” 

“ Nope,” said the other. “ It only proves what 
I told you before. Old man Crooker found it would 
cost too much to put double shutters to all the win- 
dows so stopped when he built this part of the 
house.” 

“ Maybe. P’r’aps he and his wife used this for 
their room,” mused Jim. “ And after every one else 
was asleep, I guess he used to read or mend furni- 
ture up in the carpenter shop. I can just see him 
now stealing up the winding stairs, can’t you?” 

“ No, I can’t say I do, Jim. You know you are 
the greatest feller I ever saw for seeing things no 
one else would ever think of.” 

Jim laughed. “I’d like to know where the secret 
room is, though,” he said. “ I’m not able to see 
that, anyway. Are you? ” 

“ What a silly I am,” Skip replied. “ Jim, I’d 
forgotten all about it.” 

“ Had you ? I hadn’t. But I bet I know where 
to hunt for it.” 

“You do? Well, then, tell me. / don’t see 
where it can be.” 

“ Not yet. It’s my secret till we’ve opened the 
ground floor rooms. Then, if we don’t find it down 
there, or in the cellar, I will.” 

By this time the boys had reached the porch. A 
hasty glance up the road showed them that one of 
the campers, accompanied by a girl about their own 



The silence was so intense that the boys felt far away from 
the busy world all around them. 





























































































































































































































































THE SECRET ROOM 


61 


size, was walking back toward the house, so they 
ran around to the extension to wash the dust from 
their hands and brush their clothes before meeting 
the man from the city for whom they expected to 
work during the summer. 


CHAPTER VI 


A NEW FRIEND 

TIM, I guess we kin spare some milk night an’ 
1 mornin’ all right, carn’t we ? ” 

The boys, who were busily brushing their clothes, 
looked up to see Sam usher into the kitchen, through 
the side door, the strangers who had just come from 
the college camp on the mountain. 

“ This is Miss Helen Lyford and her father, 
boys,” Sam continued ; a Mr. Ly ford’s th’ boss of 
th’ camp an’ wants us to spare him milk twice a 
day all summer. I told him that, between our cow 
an’ some from your father’s, Skip, I thought we 
could fix him out, all right.” 

“ So far’s I know, Mr. Lyford,” said Jim, after 
greetings had been exchanged, “ you can have milk 
from us, for 'Lazy Bones’ is fresh just now; but 
it’ll depend on what the doctor says about my grand- 
father. I s’pose you know about the accident, sir? 
They may want him to only have milk to drink and 
if that’s so I don’t see how we can spare any.” 

Skip suggested that one farm supply the morning 
milk while the other send up that from the after- 
noon’s yield. And the matter was thus arranged. 

Jim looked at Helen and thought he had never 
seen such a pretty girl before. He wanted to ask 
62 


A NEW FRIEND 


63 


her lots of things about the city and if she thought 
she’d like it up on the mountain but somehow he 
couldn’t manage it. He had never felt so bashful 
before; and an awkward pause followed the ar- 
rangement about the milk. Then Skip, who was so 
used to girls that a new one meant nothing to him, 
began to talk to her in an easy, natural way and 
before Jim realized it he, too, found himself asking 
and answering many eager questions. His head 
just whirled, he wanted to know so many things 
about the city; and it seemed strange to him that 
Helen should be just as curious about his part of 
the world. Sam grinned at them in an amused way 
and Helen never knew she had been talking to the 
most bashful boy in the county, nor that she had 
cured him of a state of mind that had often caused 
him much unhappiness. Soon, Blackie appeared at 
the screen door, asking, in her soft, purring man- 
ner, to be introduced. They went outside to get 
her and when Jim saw the gentle way in which 
Helen picked up and held his pet, he knew, that in 
spite of what he thought of her “ standoffish, citified 
ways,” she was “ an all right girl.” 

The boys also liked Mr. Lyford. His keen, blue 
eyes had a merry twinkle and his pleasant face as- 
sured them of a good disposition. They sat to- 
gether in the shade of the kitchen maples and he 
outlined their duties for them. Skip agreed to all 
his plans, but Jim, of course, felt that he would 
have to wait till his grandfather was better before 
he could promise Mr. Lyford anything. 


64 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ That’s quite right,” assented the man. “ Mr. 
Jones has told me about Mr. Burton and I appre- 
ciate just how you feel and shall not expect you to 
join our forces till things are happier at home. 
Well, we are very glad to get up in this beautiful 
country, boys, my family as well as the students; 
for my wife and little daughter Gertrude are also 
with me. You must come up and get acquainted 
to-morrow. Just at present they are all taking this 
afternoon off, in which to rest up, and Gertrude 
isn’t very strong, anyway. She’s only six years old 
and her mother persuaded her to stay with her this 
afternoon. Helen and I are the only ones ener- 
getic enough to do any investigating to-day. So,” 
he added, “ if you are not needed this afternoon, 
Jim, I thought you might like to guide us through 
the glen. It looks so attractive we want to plunge 
right in and begin to see things.” 

Jim’s eyes sparkled. “ I’d just love to do that,” 
he answered. “ And I’m sure I can, too, for Dr. 
Brown said he’d meet the nurse and doctor and 
bring them up after dinner. So I won’t have to go 
for them and as soon as I’ve opened the ground floor 
rooms I’ll be free till milking time.” 

“ Good ! Then we’ll take this pail of milk Sam’s 
just brought and go back to camp. We’ll return 
for you about two o’clock. Will that give us time 
to go up to the end of the glen and get back by 
six? ” 

“ Oh, yes, Mr. Lyford, and lots over ’specially if 
we come home by the road. You see, the road, the 


A NEW FRIEND 65 

brook and the glen all follow the same general direc- 
tion/’ 

“ Very well, then, we’ll be on hand in good time. 
Will you come, too, Skip? ” 

“ No, thank you, sir. I’ve been up here with 
Jim since yesterday morning so guess I’d better go 
home and help my father some before I change my 
boss.” He grinned at the man and stood up with 
Jim to watch their new friends till they reached the 
bridge and Helen turned to wave her hand. 

Jim sighed contentedly. “ He’s all right,” he 
said. “ No stuck up city airs about him.” 

“ Nope, not a bit,” agreed Skip. “ Just as easy 
to talk to him as to pa. And Helen seems nice, too. 
Guess the girls will like her. Now come on, Jim. 
If we’re going to open those last rooms, we’ll have 
to get a hustle on. I’ve gotter get home in time 
for dinner.” 

“ All right, come on, then,” and the boys ran 
back through the kitchen to the extension end of 
the hall. The left hand rooms were in what Sam 
called, “ spick and span order.” He had been 
working hard there all the morning and now would 
not let the boys enter. “ They air all ready fer 
th’ doctors,” he said, “ an’ yer carn’t come in.” 

The boys, therefore, willingly turned their atten- 
tion to the parlors, dining room, and general offices 
which occupied the rest of the ground floor. In a 
few minutes the hot noon sun was throwing patches 
of white light over walls and ceiling and dusty hotel 
furniture. Jim’s task was finished. 


66 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


He then lighted a candle and, followed by Skip, 
ran down a short flight of stone steps to the cellar. 
This was excavated under one-half of the house 
only, that part toward the brook. A slanting door, 
at the top of a few moldy granite stairs, opened on 
the side lawn. Up and out to' the clear air the boys 
gladly scrambled, and then Jim watched his chum 
hurry around the corner of the house on his way 
to dinner while he mused over the commonplace- 
ness of the cellar. “ Nothing there, anyway,” he 
thought. “ And I didn’t see any clue to the secret 
room on the ground floor either and Skip never 
spoke of it. Guess the Lyfords must have made 
him forget about it. Hum, I guess / know — now 
— where — to — look. Hum, — well — I will tell 
Skip to-morrow and then we’ll set to work with a 
few tools and see if I’m right or not. But I guess 
there ain’t much doubt of that.” He^ backed off a 
few steps and looked up at the end of the old house 
where it met the overhanging eaves. “ Yes, sir, I’m 
sure I’m on the right track all right, bet you any- 
thing ! ” 

Just then Sam called him. “ Here you, Jim,” he 
said, and, leaning over the porch railing, he bran- 
dished a carving knife in such a mock heroic way 
that the boy laughed, “ quit yer gazin, yer carn’t 
see no stars yit. I want you should go upstairs 
and toss some mattrasses out on th’ piazza roof to 
toast in this hot sun. Then hang them blankets an’ 
sheets thet air on th’ hall sofy on th’ clothesline 
so as to give ’em a good airin’. By thet time din- 


A NEW FRIEND 67 

ner’ll be ready. Now you git a hustle on or I’ll 
carve you up instid of th’ meat.” 

Jim had just finished his dinner when Helen and 
her father arrived, and they started to walk through 
the glen. The boy enjoyed acting as guide very 
much, and found Helen such pleasant company, that 
in a short time when she said she was tired and 
wanted to go back, he felt quite disappointed. 

“ That’s a wise thing to do, daughter,” said Mr. 
Lyford ; “ I wondered how long your enthusiasm 
would last. But it is much better to go back now, 
isn’t it, before you get too tired to return to-mor- 
row with Gertrude and mother? And you know 
you have the whole summer before you. Have. we 
come half way, Jim?” 

“ Oh, no, Mr. Lyford; why, we’ve just lost sight 
of the barn.” 

“ Then, Helen,” said her father, “ you won’t be 
afraid to go back alone, will you? Take plenty of 
time, — and, here, take my coat, will you ? Do you 
mind carrying it on your arm ? It’s light, but I am 
already finding it too heavy, and shan’t need it the 
rest of the way. Do you think I will, Jim? ” 

“ No, Mr. Lyford, for we’ve got some climbing 
yet to do, and that’s harder work than what we’ve 
done so far.” 

“ I don’t mind carrying it, father. Just give it 
to me. There, now I’m off. Don’t get too tired 
yourself. Remember what mother said — to take 
it easy. That’s why I’m going back now, for I’d 
just love to go on with you.” 


68 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Perhaps you can persuade her to come as far 
as this to-morrow, dear. I want her to see how 
pretty it is here. Well, I’ll see you at supper time.” 
He returned her salute by waving his hand to her. 
Then he stood watching her till a turn in the trail 
hid her from view. “ These woods are perfectly 
safe, Jim? ” he asked, half inclined to call to Helen 
to come back. 

“ Oh, yes, Mr. Lyford,” laughed the boy, “ why, 
we’re over five miles from the railroad, and a tramp 
has never been seen in these woods. And there isn’t 
any large game around here in the summer — ’cept 
rabbits and chipmunks, and I guess they wouldn’t 
harm her any.” 

Thus reassured, Mr. Lyford resumed his climb. 
Neither man nor boy saw, on the other side of the 
little brook, a bright pair of furtive eyes that 
watched them go — nor heard a slight rustle in the 
underbrush which indicated that there was game, 
after all, in the glen that day. A strange kind of 
game which also started quietly off in the direction 
of the farm. 

Some hours later, Mr. Lyford and Jim reached 
the end of the glen. Here they rested, leaning 
against the face of a steep, rocky wall, before they 
began the necessary climb, through underbrush and 
over ferny, moss-covered ground, were they to 
reach the top of the cliff. 

“Well, are you ready, Mr. Lyford?” at last the 
boy said ; “ I guess we had better be getting on. 
We’ve a stiff climb before us and can finish our 


A NEW FRIEND 69 

rest at the top. There’s a fine view up there, 
too.” 

“ You lead, I’ll follow,” replied the man. He 
rose to his feet and took the walking stick Jim had 
just cut for him. “ Thank you, my boy, I think this 
will be a great help.” And so it proved to be. The 
man from the city, unused to long and hard climbs, 
without aid would often have been forced to stop 
and rest before gaining the road above. 

Part of the precipice was a sheer wall of granite, 
fifty feet high. Over this, in a shimmering river 
of light, fell the brook. On one side close to the 
sparkling water grew an impenetrable grove of hem- 
lock and spruce, the trees towering over one another 
in compact rows. So Jim led the way up the other 
side, over moist and rocky ground. 

His feet crushed through banks of pungent shield 
fern, whose rank growth sent up a delicious per- 
fume. Mr. Lyford breathed it with delight. He 
did not speak, however, for Jim still climbed on 
and up, and he had to bend all his energy to keep 
in touch with him. At last, when he was quite 
out of breath, the hardest part of the climb was 
over. They clambered around an outcropping of 
rock and arrived at their objective point. 

Mr. Lyford did not sit down for a long time. 
The magnificent view spread out before him made 
him forget he was tired. Jim watched his face and 
felt well repaid for bringing him. At last he turned 
to the boy and smiled. Though he said no word, 
Jim knew how he felt and was satisfied. Then they 


70 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


sat down and dangled their feet over the slippery 
edge of the cliff. 

“ The waterfall’s called ‘ Isaac’s Leap/ ” ex- 
plained Jim. “ A long time ago a man by that 
name used to live near here, and he planted some 
of these pine trees, and then my grandfather put 
in the rest. Don’t they smell nice?” 

They turned their backs to the waterfall and 
looked into a small plantation of fragrant pines and 
balsam firs. The trees were planted in orderly 
rows, not too near together, and covered about an 
acre of almost level ground. The brook wandered 
through it. Its source was in springs farther up 
the mountain, and the sunlight, which flickered 
down in patches on it, its rocky borders and the 
ground, completed a very pretty picture. Mr. Ly- 
ford and Jim walked for a short distance on the 
soft yielding carpet of pine “ spills ” and cones. 
For many years the trees had been dropping these 
from their old branches, and they sent up soft, 
sweet-smelling clouds of dust to the man who looked 
around him in silent appreciation. Then he said : 

“ How nice it is here. I hate to leave it but I’m 
afraid it’s growing late. We must be getting back. 
Have you any idea what time it is ? I didn’t bring 
my watch.” 

Jim squinted at the sun and said it must be at 
least half after five, so, regretfully, they started on 
their homeward way. They climbed over a lichen- 
covered stone wall, and found themselves on the 
deeply shaded road which led down the mountain. 


A NEW FRIEND 


7 1 


When they reached the camp, Jim thought that the 
busy fire, the white tents, and all the details of open- 
air life, with the companionship of interesting peo- 
ple, almost too nice to leave. Helen hadn’t come 
back, but her mother said that they needed more 
milk, so one of the campers had gone for it, and she 
supposed he had met Helen and she had walked 
with him to the Jones farm. Jim was cordially 
asked to stay to the first camp supper. He wanted 
to yet decided not to stop. Dr. Brown might need 
him, he said, there might be something he could 
do for to-morrow. So, with a cheerful good-night 
to his new friends, he kept on his homeward way. 
He whistled to keep his spirits up, for the mention 
of his grandfather’s name suddenly brought to his 
mind the knowledge of the next day’s doings, and 
he wondered how he’d ever get through it. 

He was half way between the bridge and the 
house when Skip came flying out to meet him. 
“ Oh, Jim,” he gasped, taking his friend’s hand and 
dragging him down on the ground beside him; 
“ don’t go in ! They told me to look out for you, and 
I ’most missed you! I thought you were coming 
the other way.” 

“ What’s the matter? What is it?” cried Jim, 
turning white with sudden fear. He trembled so 
he was glad he was sitting down. 

“ It’s the operation. They are doing it now,” an- 
swered Skip. “ When they got here they found 
your grandfather was worse, so they had to begin 
right away. Where you going? ” 


72 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


While listening to his chum’s excited whispers, 
Jim had unlaced and taken off his shoes, and now, 
throwing them in Skip’s lap, he darted to his feet 
and ran as fast as he could toward the house. 


CHAPTER VII 


SUSPENSE 

VJTT’HEN Skip overtook his chum, Jim was 
* * crouched in a troubled heap outside the 
closed door. On the other side of the broad, ma- 
hogany panels was happening — what? Once or 
twice he took hold of the door-knob, but he did 
not turn it. Skip brooded over him as a hen 
broods her chickens, and when he could stand the 
strained silence and Jim’s terror-stricken face no 
longer, ran out to the barn to find Sam and bring 
him back to his friend. 

Sam was bedding the horses and closing up the 
outbuildings for the night. Unheeded tears fol- 
lowed each other down his troubled face. In an- 
swer to Skip’s request he slowly shook his head. 
“ The live stock hes gotter be tended to furst,” he 
said. “ Then I’ll come. I’ve neglected ’em too 
much as ’tis fer th’ larst day or two. I’d be ’shemed 
ter drive th’ pair ter th’ village ’ith sich a dirty 
coat on ’em as they’ve got, dust’s an inch thick on 
’em this minute. And th’ doctors said ’twould be 
two hours, or till seven o’clock before there’d be 
anything ter report. Carn’t be near thet yit.” 

“ No, it’s just struck six.” 

73 


74 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Wal, you go bring Jim an’ help him do his 
chores. Work’s the best thing goin’ jest now, 
Skip. It don’t take none of my feelin’s fer Mr. 
Burton away, but it does keep me from worryin’ 
too much.” As the boy darted off, Sam called out 
to him, “ and I wish you’d arsk him what under 
th’ canopy he dun with the peck measure an’ th’ 
blanket fer Judge.” Skip nodded, and Sam again 
turned to the grooming of the patient horses. “ It 
does beat all,” he mused, “ how some folks will let 
any kind of excitement upset th’ hull kit an’ boodle 
o’ things. But I s’pose boys will be boys till th’ 
end of time, an’ I guess Jim does as well as th’ 
best on ’em.” 

A hurried visit to the house failed to persuade 
Jim to leave his post, however, so Skip, too nervous 
to keep still, ran back and helped Sam. They were 
glad of each other’s companionship and when, the 
last of the work done, and they reached the house 
together, it was to find Jim still crouched, Turk- 
like, in the dim hall. Sam peered in at him and 
then said: 

“Now, here we be, Jim boy; cum out on ther 
porch an’ set down with Skip an’ me. Yer ain’t no 
mortal use agin thet door.” 

But Jim slowly shook his head. Sam and Skip, 
therefore, sat down on the threshold of the front 
door, where, shortly afterward, Skip’s father joined 
them. He rode up on one of his horses which he 
tied to the fence on the other side of the road. 
Then he crossed over to the house. 


SUSPENSE 


75 


“ Well, well,” he said, in a cheerful whisper. 
“ What are you sitting here for ? It’ll be dark in 
a minute. Light up, won’t you, Sam? Where’s 
Jim? ” 

Sam painfully rose to his feet. His rheumatic 
joints cracked so loud they could be heard. Then 
Skip jumped up, saying, “ Never mind, Sam, I’ll 
light the lamps. Just you sit down again.” 

As the tired man did so, Skip turned to his father 
and pointed to the hall. “ Jim’s in there,” he whis- 
pered ; “ where he’s been more’n an hour. Can’t 
you make him come out, pa? ” 

Mr. Jones gave a searching look at the tense 
figure. Then he shook his head. “ Let him alone,” 
he whispered, in return : “he won’t have to wait 
much longer, now.” Then, loud enough to be 
heard by the crouching boy in the shadow, he con- 
tinued, “ Sam, you remember the story of those 
counterfeiters? ” 

“ Well, I just guess he does, pa,” laughed Skip, 
answering the question himself ; “ didn’t he tell Jim 
and me all about them only last night ? ” 

“ That’s so, so he did, Skip. Well, the crazy 
one’s escaped from the lunatic asylum.” 

“ Sure ’nough,” exclaimed Sam, “ I want ter 
know. When’d you hear ? ” 

“Just now. The asylum telegraphed the opera- 
tor at the station, and he ’phoned up to the farm. 
They want us to look out for him.” 

“ What do they want us to do that for?” asked 
Skip. 


76 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ They can’t find him, and think he’s headed this 
way,” replied his father. “ Because he talked so 
much about — ‘ getting even with Job.’ Job 
Greenough was the counterfeiter who escaped, you 
know. And this crazy fellow seems to think Job 
might have kept him from the asylum if he’d only 
come out of his hiding place — wherever that is. 
He says he’s here and is going to kill him.” 

“ Gee,” whistled Skip. 

“ So, there’s something for you two boys to do,” 
gently laughed his father, “ before the authorities 
get here. Find the poor fellow, that is if he’s 
around here, anywhere, and claim the reward they 
offer for his capture.” 

“ Oh, is there a reward for him, too? ” excitedly 
cried Skip. “ Gosh, Jim, hear that? ” 

“ Now, don’t you take on too hard,” chuckled 
Sam, “ fer ’tain’t no ways likely thet pore, demented 
feller’ll ever manage ter find his way so far frum 
th’ ’sylum. But of course I s’ pose th’ authorities 
thought they ought ter let us know.” 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Jones, “ they’ll telegraph us as 
soon as they find him, but in the meantime they 
ask us to be on the lookout for him.” 

“ A crazy man,” mused Skip. “ I’ve never seen 
one. I wonder what he’ll look like. Ain’t it excit- 
ing, Jim? ” And Jim replied in a low voice: 

“ I guess we’d know him, if we saw him, all 
right.” 

By this time the gathering twilight had deepened. 


SUSPENSE 


77 


Down by the bridge a frog was croaking. In the 
grass near the porch a cricket began to chirp. The 
stars shone in the clear sky, and though it was 
very pleasant on the piazza, when Skip brought a 
lighted lamp and set it on the marble-topped table 
at the foot of the stairs, his father and Sam came 
in and sat down near by. And then Jim started 
to his feet. Within the room, some one moved. 
He could hear voices, and slow, careful steps going 
toward the front of the house. He joined the 
others, and they all looked breathlessly at the door 
of Mr. Burton’s room. In a moment it opened and 
Dr. Brown came out. He smiled; then softly clos- 
ing the door, stepped up to Jim. 

“ It’s all right,” he whispered. “ Jim, my boy, 
don’t look so. Your grandfather’s conscious, the 
operation was a great success, and I have every 
reason to think he’s going to get well. Why, Jim ! ” 
The boy, with a little, smothered cry, fell over into 
the man’s outstretched arms. Mr. Jones thought he 
had fainted and ran for a glass of water, which, 
however, was not wanted, for, when he returned, 
Jim was sitting up, a bit pale and trembly, leaning 
against the doctor’s arm. 

“ Oh, I’m all right,” he said, “ I was kind o’ 
stiff, that’s all, I guess. But now I feel as though 
I was going to cry just like a baby.” He thrust 
his hand in his pocket for his handkerchief, and 
as he drew it out in a hurry and buried his face 
in it, something which came with it, fell with a 


78 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


little tinkle on the floor. Sam mechanically stooped 
and picked it up, holding it to the light to see what 
it was. Immediately : 

“ Great Jumping Jehoshaphat,” he cried, and he 
forgot the need of silence till reminded of it by 
the doctor. Then excitedly leaving the house and 
followed by the others, Sam hurried across the road 
to the fence where Mr. Jones’ horse was tied. 
Here they could talk without being heard in the 
sick room. Sam amused them all. Never before 
had they seen him in such an excited condition. 

“ Now, Jim,” he began, when they clustered 
around him. “ Where on airth did you git this ? ” 
and he held up the gold locket and chain, which, 
a moment before, had been with the handkerchief 
in the boy’s pocket. Jim explained its presence 
there in a few words. Sam then clutched the boy 
by the arm and almost danced in his agitation as he 
cried : 

“ Of course! I hev it! It’s as plain as day 
or th’ nose on your face thet th’ tame crow did 
it.” 

“ Did what, Sam ? ” laughed the doctor, while 
Mr. Jones added; 

“ You’re crdzy, my man.” 

“ Purty nigh, purty nigh,” agreed Sam, who, 
calming down somewhat, continued, “ I carn’t tell 
th’ hull story of it, fer I don’t know it, but, Jim, 
this locket an’ chain’ll help you to find yer father. 
It’ll bring back yer pa to yer, or my name ain’t — 
ain’t — what ’tis.” 


SUSPENSE 


79 

“ Come, come, Sam,” — interrupted the doctor — 
“ calm down and tell us what you know.” 

“ Well,” answered the man, “ thar’s little that I 
kin tell, Dr. Brown. What I do know, however, 
is this: Mr. Burton prizes this locket an’ chain 
more’n anything he possesses, ’cause it was his 
wife’s. She wore it th’ furst time he ever see her. 
So when Jim was a baby an’ he let him wear it, an’ 
it wuz lost one day, he an’ his son quarreled about 
it. Mr. Burton, he sed some ha’sh words, I guess, 
yer all know how quick tempered he kin be on oc- 
casions, an’ furst thing / knew, his son had picked 
up an’ wuz a-leavin’. I wuz a-shinglin’ th’ balcony 
at th’ end o’ th’ house, so saw him go though I 
never let on I did. An’ when he called out : 4 I’ll 

never come home, ’thout thet locket an’ chain’s 
found,’ his father yelled back, 4 I’ll send yer word 
when ’tis.’ Wal, th’ young one sed nary a word ter 
this but kep’ right on down th’ road. An’ th’ old, 
tame crow he’d raised frum th’ nest, sat on th’ 
railin’ of th’ porch an’ croaked, 4 Caw, caw, caw.’ 
Gosh! I kin hear it now’s plain’s day. An’ do 
you know, I bet ’twas thet pesky bird what carried 
off thet locket an’ chain an’ hid it in th’ oak. It 
loved bright things. A new nail or a bit of tin’d 
occupy its attention half ’n hour at a time. An’ 
then it would pick it up an’ hop gravely off an’ hide 
it somewhar. Yes, sir , thet’s just what happened, 
I’ll bet a dime. Th’ old rascal lived to a ripe old 
age, an’ Mr. Burton a-feedin’ of it an’ keerin’ fer 
it th’ hull time, ’cause it wuz his son’s. He wouldn’t 


80 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


let me touch it, not thet I hankered arfter th’ job, 
an’ — thet’s all I kin tell yer about it, Jim.” 

“ Well, of course there’s more to the story that 
we don’t know,” loyally answered the boy. “ For 
I don’t believe my father’d stay away all these years 
for a quarrel so silly as that one was, and as soon 
as grandpa is strong enough to know about the 
locket and chain, I’ll make him tell me all about 
my father and then I’m going to hunt for him — 
and find him, too ! When can I tell my grandfather, 
Dr. Brown? ” 

“ Not till I give you permission,” at once an- 
swered the doctor. “ You must not think of speak- 
ing to him till I do. His recovery absolutely 
depends upon rest and quiet. The least excitement 
or strain on his sympathies would be fatal to him.” 

“ Then you can count upon me to keep quiet,” 
said the boy, though a wistful look came into his 
eyes, and he added, “ It won’t be easy. It’s my 
father, Dr. Brown.” 

“ I know it, my boy,” kindly replied the doctor, 
“ but for that very reason, just because you do 
want to find your father, you must not do or say 
a thing to that sick man in there to worry him.” 
The doctor pointed to the house, and then added, 
“ I’m sure you wouldn’t do anything to imperil or 
hinder his recovery.” 

“ Of course not; you know I want to help all I 
can,” indignantly answered Jim. 

“Well, Jim, you needn’t worry about that part 
of it,” said Mr. Jones. “ I take it that all here will 


SUSPENSE 


81 


agree with me when I say you’ve proved to be a great 
help already.” 

“ You bet we do,” laughed Skip, and the doctor 
smilingly added: 

“ I’ll tell you this to encourage you, Jim. Per- 
haps in a week you can show your grandfather 
the locket and chain and tell him how you found 
it. I suppose, if the truth were known, it was your 
own little fingers that pulled it off your neck and 
handed it to the old crow. I remember now what 
good friends you two used to be. It’s strange how 
things turn out, isn’t it? And now, good-night. 
I’ll just take another look at my patient and then 
trot along.” 

He returned to the house while Mr. Jones and 
Sam walked around to the barn to get the horse 
and buggy. With one exception, to those who had 
assisted at this moonlight interview, a week seemed 
a long time to wait before Mr. Burton could be told 
about the locket and chain and their curiosity sat- 
isfied. Jim, alone, was not impatient. He thrust 
his hand deep down in his pocket and closed it 
around the trinket. Had he not waited almost all 
his life to know about his father? What was one 
week, compared to ten years? 


CHAPTER VIII 


MIDNIGHT IN THE GLEN 

r T A HE boys were left alone. They stared at each 
^ other in silence for a few moments. Then 
Skip laughed. “ Talk about living quietly in the 
country,” he began ; “ I’d like to know what city 
could beat this for excitement.” 

“Who said the country was quiet?” asked Jim. 

“ Why, some of the fellers up at the camp, when 
they went by on their way to the post-office. They 
were in the auto and had Gertrude with them. Just 
before you came back from the glen. They wanted 
to know how we ever stood it, said they 4 could 
hear the silence,’ ” and Skip laughed again. “ Mr. 
Lyford’s girls are all right, though, Jim. I’m going 
to take Sara up there to meet ’em to-morrow. I 
guess she and Helen’ll like each other first rate. But 
there, such pipe-stem legs as little Gertrude has, 
you never did see. She looks awfully peaked, too 
— guess our Vermont air’ll straighten her out all 
right, though.” 

Jim smiled but paid little attention to his friend’s 
remarks. He was looking at the front of the house, 
now showing clear and distinct in the bright, starlit 
night. Suddenly he exclaimed: 

82 


MIDNIGHT IN THE GLEN 


83 

“ Say, Skip, why didn’t you open all your share 
of the windows when we divided the work this 
morning? ” 

“ I did.” 

“ You never — or if you did, who shut the blinds 
on the end window of the third floor? No one’s 
been up there since we came down.” 

Skip looked, gasped a little, and turned to meet 
Jim’s excited glance with one as expressive. Then 
they both cried at the same instant, “ The secret 
room ! ” And Skip added, “ Oh, Jim, do you s’ pose 
we’ve discovered it ? ” 

“ I don’t know, but it looks mighty like it,” re- 
plied Jim. “ We’ll find out for sure in the morning. 
That’s where I thought it was, in the corner behind 
the room where all the furniture and carpenter’s 
tools are. That room seemed ever so much smaller 
than the one below it.” 

“ Perhaps the door to it is one of the closets we 
couldn’t open,” suggested Skip. 

“Yes, that’s what I think, too. Ssh — mum’s 
the word. Don’t say anything more about it now,” 
whispered Jim, as the doctor, with a smile and a 
nod, drove by in the buggy. Then Skip’s father 
came back from the barn and jumped on his horse 
to follow. “ It’ll be our secret,” continued Jim, in 
a low voice. “ Come back to-morrow as soon’s you 
can and we’ll go up together again.” 

Skip nodded and then at a request from his father 
took his place on the broad back of the horse and 
they rode home. 


84 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


Jim, thinking over the events of this busy day, 
walked slowly around the corner of the house. So 
many things had happened, one right after another, 
that his head was in a whirl from the excitement. 
He wondered if he could ever get to sleep and 
what made him feel so queer inside. Then he saw 
Sam eating bread and milk at the kitchen table 
and realized that he hadn’t had any supper. In a 
few minutes he, too, was busy at the same occupa- 
tion and when he finally left the room and went 
upstairs felt much better. 

While he lazily undressed he mused over the news 
Mr. Jones had told them about the crazy counter- 
feiter and then his thoughts wandered to the secret 
room and as he tumbled into bed he said to himself, 
“ And now I can plan it all out, just how we can 
get in there. In the first place, — ” But by this 
time the boy’s head was on the pillow, his tired eyes 
were closed and he was conscious of falling com- 
fortably to sleep, in spite of his interesting plans, 
when he thought he heard a knock at the door. 

Before he could say, “ Come in,” it opened and 
the crazy counterfeiter entered the room. Jim sud- 
denly realized that he wasn’t at all surprised to see 
him. He seemed to know him at once and what he 
had come for so he jumped right out of bed and 
began to help him. First, they set up the big, cop- 
per pot, that the counterfeiter had brought, on its 
tripod and then commenced to make blueberry pies 
out of gold dollars that Jim found under his pillow. 
As they stirred the fire in the caldron, Jim thought 


MIDNIGHT IN THE GLEN 


85 


it funny that they should boil the pies, but when 
the crazy man and Job Greenough, who had just 
flown through the window in the most natural way, 
as though that was the only entrance, turned to him, 
he suddenly knew that they were going to boil him! 

Before he had time to turn away they reached 
out and caught hold of him. He struggled hard 
to free himself from their grasp, but they held on 
so tight he was afraid he’d have to be boiled after 
all. The fire was so near he could feel its heat 
on his face. Job’s big hand clutched his shoulder 
while the crazy man grabbed both his feet. They 
were about to lift him up and toss him into the 
boiling pot which was now full of molten gold with 
the blueberries dancing on top when he made 
one desperate effort to get away. He jerked his 
face from beneath Job’s arm and opened his mouth 
to scream when he found himself standing upright 
on his bed while Sam, who held a lighted candle, 
and Skip, who was also fully dressed, were both 
shaking him vigorously. 

" Gosh,” muttered Sam, as he put the candle on 
a chair and started to go downstairs, “ I never 
knew a critter could sleep so sound. You tell him, 
.Skip; and you, Jim, hurry up and git dressed as 
fast’s you kin.” 

“ What is it?” cried Jim. “ Where’s Job and 
— ” Then he realized that he had been dreaming 
and that Skip was telling him to “ hurry up.” 
"What’s the matter?” he sleepily yawned. He 
hurriedly slipped into his clothes. 


86 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Helen’s lost.” 

“ Helen? Helen who? What’s she lost for?” 

“ Oh, you, Jim,” called Sam, from the foot of the 
stairs. “ Ain’t you ready yit ? ” 

“ Cornin’, Sam, cornin’,” answered Jim, and the 
boys, blowing out the candle, took the short flight 
of stairs at two bounds and a slide and landed in 
the middle of an anxious group of men standing at 
the screen door. It seemed to Jim, still rubbing his 
tired eyes, and struggling with the desire to close 
them again, tight, right where he was, and never 
open them again, he was so sleepy, that all the men 
in the township were there. Then suddenly he real- 
ized that something very serious must have hap- 
pened or Mr. Lyford and all the college boys, Mr. 
Jones, his two oldest boys and Skip, would not 
all be there at that time of night. So he became 
wide awake at once and asked again, “ What’s the 
matter?” 

Mr. Lyford answered. “ Helen hasn’t come 
back,” he said. “ No one’s seen her since she left 
you and me this afternoon.” 

“ Why,” exclaimed Jim, “ I thought her mother 
said that she’d gone with one of the fellers to Skip’s 
for more milk ! ” 

“ Her mother thought she had,” answered the 
man, with a little choke in his voice, “ but she 
hadn’t. You know Skip brought some up first, be- 
fore her mother thought it was time for her to 
return. She thought Helen was with me, any- 


MIDNIGHT IN THE GLEN 


87 


way. Then, when she found she’d need another 
quart of milk, she sent one of the boys to Mr. 
Jones’ for it and while he was gone you and I got 
back. My wife thought Helen might have gone 
on to the farm, or jumped in the automobile which 
went to the village for the mail, so it was not till 
all had returned, without her, that we began to 
worry. Then, you were so busy and anxious, here, 
over the operation, that we felt we could not ask 
you or Sam to help us look for her. But we did 
go for Mr. Jones and they have helped us search 
every foot of ground between here and the camp. 
We’ve dragged the pool below the bridge — and, — ” 
He tried hard to control his voice but it was some 
time before he could add: “ and now, Jim, we want 
you to guide us through — ” 

“ Sssh — ” A soft voice interrupted and Ellen 
tiptoed from out the dark hall to the dimly lighted 
kitchen. “ You’re making altogether too much 
noise. You’ll wake Mr. Burton up. Do be quiet.” 
With a silent gesture she shooed them all out into 
the dooryard, where Mr. Jones, now speaking for 
Mr. Lyford, turned to Jim and said: 

“ No one knows the glen so well as you do, Jim, 
on both sides of the brook, off the trail and on, all 
over the little island, too. So we had to wake 
you.” 

“ I’m sorry to do so, too, after your anxious even- 
ing here,” added Mr. Lyford, “ but you see — ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Lyford,” interrupted Jim, “ don’t you 


88 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


think of me. I’m rested ’nough now, anyway. 
What time is it? Quarter to twelve? Goodness! 
And she started home before four.” 

“ Yes, yes,” impatiently agreed her father. 
“ Now what d’you think, Jim?” 

“ Think ? I think we’d better find her. In dou- 
ble quick time, too. She must be awfully hungry. 
Come on, Skip.” 

“ Hold on, young feller, whar you goin’ ? ” said 
Sam, reaching out a detaining hand and stopping 
the boy who had already started to run toward 
the barn. 

“ Why,” he answered, “ to get the lantern. It’ll 
be dark as a pocket in the glen.” 

“ I’ll get it; I know ’xactly where it hangs,” cried 
Skip, as he darted off. “ You do something else.” 

“ We’ve got a lantern, Jim,” said Mr. Lyford; 
“ brought it from camp. And so has Mr. Jones.” 

“ Well, we’ll need ’em both, and ours, too,” said 
Jim. “ For we’d better divide in three parties. 
Skip’ll go ahead with one up the trail, Mr. Jones 
had better lead some of us over the rocks along by 
the brook and the island, and I’ll take the rest up 
in the woods between the camp and the trail where 
she left us. She may have thought she could get 
home quicker by taking a short cut through the 
woods that way. Perhaps she’s sprained her ankle 
on a loose stone or something.” 

“ Good boy, Jim,” breathed Mr. Lyford, with a 
deep sigh of relief. “ You’ve struck it just right. 
Of course that’s what’s happened. Come on, I’ll 


MIDNIGHT IN THE GLEN 


89 

go with you. Now the rest of us divide up 
with Mr. Jones and Skip. And Skip, ah, here he 
is, too, but without the lantern. Where is it, 
Skip?” 

“ ’Tain’t there,” briefly responded the boy. 

“’Tain’t? ’Course ’tis,” crossly replied Sam, 
and he went himself to look for what he could not 
find. “ Must be a ghost sommers ’round here.” he 
muttered, as he had to give up in disgust and hurry 
after the others, who, impatient of this extra delay, 
had gone on without him. 

In place of the much needed barn lantern, Jim 
had supplied himself with a lamp from the house. 
Mr. Lyford carried it and protected it from the 
overhanging foliage and thick, interwoven branches, 
while Jim went cautiously a few steps in advance, 
peering behind rocks and stumps and thrusting aside 
clumps of tall weeds as though expecting to find 
the lost child tucked away, fast asleep. 

From time to time the various searching parties 
called to one another and, as they went further and 
further up the slope of the wooded mountain, they 
drew closer and closer together. At last they could 
see one another’s flickering lights and soon they all 
joined forces. They had been unsuccessful. 

“ It’s pitchy black, all right,” exclaimed Skip and 
he threw himself full length on a bed of moss. 
The others followed his example and for a moment 
no one spoke. Indeed, there was nothing to say 
and Mr. Lyford’s haggard face and frightened eyes 
made the others feel so bad they could only express 


90 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


their sympathy in their silent attitude. They were 
in the same little clearing, where, only a short time 
before, Jim had noticed the remains of a bonfire. 
The dead embers were still lying about and the boy 
again absent-mindedly touched them with his foot. 
As he did so, a tightly wadded ball of some half- 
burned material rolled from between the logs right 
to his feet. He stooped and, picking it up, undid 
it. It was part of a brown and red striped coat 
and the stripes ran round, upward from the wrist; 
there was no cuff; first a brown one, then a red, 
then a brown one again. 

“ Hum, that’s a funny kind of a thing,” mused 
Jim. “ Never saw any one wear anything like that 
before. I wonder how it came here in our glen. I 
wonder — ” And suddenly, a tremendous, a star- 
tling idea came to Jim. He trembled all over at 
the mere thought of it and looked behind him as 
though afraid. 

“Come on, Jim,” Mr. Jones said, just then. 
“ We’re going back, down the trail, to get something 
to eat and see if she’s gotten to camp yet. And if 
not, then we’ll decide what to do next.” 

When Jim turned to take up his lamp, which he 
had safely placed on a flat rock, he managed to 
secret the half-burned sleeve within his blouse with- 
out being seen. Then he hurried on after the others, 
because, for the first time in his life, he knew he’d 
be afraid to be alone in the glen. 


CHAPTER IX 


WHAT JIM SAW FROM THE PINE TREE 

TX^HEN the tired and hungry searching party 
* * reached the farm, it was after four o’clock 
and dawn was slowly creeping over the land. One 
of the campers, with Mr. Lyford, ran up to the 
tents to see if Helen had returned, Mr. Jones rode 
home on Judge to enquire there and the others sat 
down in the kitchen to drink the good, hot coffee 
and eat the ham and eggs that Ellen had prepared 
for them. 

“ The biscuits’ll be ready in a jiffy,” she whis- 
pered as she flew from the oven door to the table 
and back again. “ And I’m sorry I can’t give you 
all milk to drink and cream for your coffee, but 
I haven’t got any too much this morning. Neither 
Sam nor Jim was here to milk and there isn’t enough 
left of last night’s to go round.” 

“ I’ll milk now,” said Jim, pushing aside his plate. 
“ Don’t hurry, fellows, and go easy on the biscuits.” 
As he slipped out the door Mr. Jones and the college 
boy passed him. They had been unsuccessful 
“ No — no news,” he heard them say, and then, after 
hesitating a second at the row of shining pails hang- 
ing on the porch rail, he caught up one and hurried 
9i 


92 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

out to the barn. Within five minutes he came back, 
but without any milk. 

“ Why, what’s the matter ? ” cried Ellen, and Mr. 
Jones, looking at Jim’s excited face, hastily rose to 
his feet. 

“ What is it, Jim,” he asked; “ d’you find her? ” 

“ Nope.” The boy shook his head. “ And no 
milk. ‘ Lazy Bones ’ is as dry’s a bone. Some 
one’s already milked her — and what’s more — the 
barn door was wide open and one of the milk 
pails is gone. I saw that just now when I took 
mine.” 

“ I wanter know ! ” exclaimed Sam. 

“ And wait, I ain’t through yet,” continued Jim. 
“ Where’s Mr. Lyford?” 

“ Still up at the camp,” was the reply. 

“ Well, before he gets back, I want to tell you 
something — what I think about Helen,” said Jim. 
“ Here, look at this, fellers,” and, in an undertone, 
for he was still mindful of his grandfather in the 
front room, the boy drew from his blouse the half- 
burned sleeve and handed it to Mr. Jones. From 
him it was quickly passed to one and then another 
in the little group. “ This is what I found up in 
the glen, where we turned back, and ’twas there 
three days ago, only I didn’t pay any attention to 
it then.” 

“ Oh, shucks,” scornfully answered Skip. 
“ What’s that ! Only a torn sleeve. I don’t see 
anything in that to get so excited about.” 

“Yes, but whose sleeve, smarty? And who, 


WHAT JIM SAW 93 

around these parts, wears any clothes like that? 
Tell me that if you can.” 

For a moment the two boys glared at each other 
and then Skip chuckled, “ Bully for you, kid. Bet 
yer I know what you think.” 

“ Well, you ought to by this time,” smiled Jim. 
He turned to Mr. Jones. “ First, I lost my over- 
alls,” he began. “ Then I couldn’t find the peck 
measure’n Judge’s blanket. Then we missed the 
halter and now the lantern’s gone and last of all, 
some one’s milked ‘ Lazy Bones.’ Some one who 
wanted some clothes different from what he had, 
so took my overalls — one strap was broken so he 
took the halter for a belt. I bet yer. He was cold 
nights, so took the horse blankets — afraid of the 
dark, so stole the lantern — hungry, so milked the 
cow.” 

“ Jim, you do suttinly beat all,” cried Sam. 

“ So / think the crazy counterfeiter’s here,” cried 
Jim, “ and what’s more, I bet he’s got Helen, too! 
Oh ! — ” and he clapped his hand over his mouth. 
But he was too late. Mr. Lyford, who had re- 
turned, stood just outside the door and had heard 
all that Jim had said. His face went white as a 
sheet. He grasped the railing of the porch and 
cried : 

“ Don’t let her mother know ! Now, what shall 
we do next? Oh, won’t some one say something? 
I see you all think that Jim’s right. I do, too, but, 
what shall we do ? ” 

The men and boys, full of sympathy that they did 


94 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


not know how to express, stepped up nearer to him 
as though to help him by their silent companion- 
ship, but they did not speak. They looked to Ellen 
to help them out. She did not disappoint them. 

“ You come right in here this minute, Mr. Ly- 
ford,” she cried. And she hastily set a clean place 
at the table for him. “ What you need most of any- 
thing just now is a good, strong cup of coffee and 
an egg. Here they are. Now you set right down 
and get at ’em. The biscuits are good, too, if I do 
say it as shouldn’t, seeing as I baked ’em myself. 
Now, then, you’ll feel better in a minute and then 
will be better able to plan things. There ain’t any- 
thing so upsettin’ as an empty stomach.” 

Ellen worked as fast as she talked and presently 
Mr. Lyford did feel more like himself, the kitchen 
was put “ to rights,” and when the trained nurse 
came from Mr. Burton’s room to get her own break- 
fast, the anxious father joined the others out under 
the maple trees. 

Though much talking had been done, no definite 
plan had been decided and they had nothing to sug- 
gest when Mr. Lyford’s questioning eyes sought 
first one and then another for advice and counsel. 
“ Well, we’ve got to do something ” he exclaimed. 
“ And I’m going back to the glen. Daylight may 
help us when the night didn’t.” Off he started. 
The others, dubiously shaking their heads, as though 
it were not worth while to hunt there again, strag- 
gled along the road up to the camp or down toward 
the Jones farm. 


WHAT JIM SAW 


95 


Jim beckoned to Skip. “ What is it? ” asked the 
boy running alongside the other as he slowly fol- 
lowed Mr. Lyford. “What is it, Jim? What 
d’you think now ? ” 

“ Well, I think,” smiled Jim, “ that we’d better 
climb a tree. Don’t you ? ” 

“ Wh-why — Gee whizz ! ” gasped his chum. 
“ Wh-what for ? ” 

“ ’Cause he may have built a fire to keep warm 
and if so we can see the smoke better from the top 
of a tree and — •” 

“You’re right; you’ve struck it,” interrupted 
Skip. “ Come on, get busy. You’ll go up the big 
elm, I s’pose? That’s the tallest.” 

“ No, the pine by the pile of rocks farther in the 
glen. That’s higher up on the side of the moun- 
tain. We can see more from that tree.” 

“ All right, come on, then ; but I don’t see what 
you make such a secret of it for. Why didn’t you 
want the others to hear, too ? ” 

“ Well,” answered Jim, “ I don’t want Mr. Ly- 
ford to count too much on what I only think , ’cause 
I may not see anything from the top of that tree. 
And then — ain’t there a reward offered for the one 
who finds that crazy counterfeiter? If there is, 
don’t you think you and I might be the ones to get 
it?” 

“ You bet I do, come on ! But I can’t climb that 
tree, Jim.” 

“ Well, you can boost me up from the rocks to 
the lowest branch and I couldn’t get up there less’n 


96 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

you did. That’ll be worth half the reward, any- 
way.” 

“ How much do you s’pose it’ll be ? ” panted Skip 
as he hurried after his chum. 

“I don’t know,” Jim answered, “but maybe 
’nough for your bicycle and my ticket to New York. 
I’ve got to find my father, you know, whether 
grandpa gets well or not.” 

“ Yes, and then there’s the reward for the secret 
room and for Job Greenough, too,” continued Skip. 
“ Y ou ain’t forgetting that, are you ? ” 

“ Well, you can just bet I’m not. And now, 
here we are; here’s the tree. And of course to find 
Helen’s the first thing.” 

“ Of course it is. Gee whizz ! Just think how 
I’d feel if ’twas Sara.” 

“Well, boost me up, will you?” 

In a few minutes, after many funny failures, 
Skip’s efforts were successful and Jim caught hold 
of the lower branches of the pine tree and drew him- 
self up out of sight. Skip could hear him scram- 
bling and slipping and catching hold again as he 
steadily made his way higher and higher up the 
trunk of the tree which towered far above its fel- 
lows, By this time Skip had been joined by Mr. 
Lyford, for he had heard the laughter and noise 
made by the two boys and was now also anxiously 
waiting the result of Jim’s hard climb. 

Presently they could hear him coming back and 
he had scarcely dropped down beside them before 


WHAT JIM SAW 97 

they asked him, “Found anything? Seen ’em? 
What d’you see ? Where are they ? ” 

“Yep, I’ve seen something — queer, too.” 

“What — Oh, where?” cried Mr. Lyford. 

“ On the little island,” Jim answered. “ Just be- 
fore the brook leaves the glen and crosses the pas- 
ture it widens out and flows round a little island 
of rocks and wild flowers and weeds. Well, there’s 
something moving over there.” 

“ Perhaps it’s a deer or a wild cat or — ” 

“ But there’s a fire there,” interrupted Jim. “ I 
saw the smoke.” 

“ Couldn’t you tell what was moving, Jim ? ” anx- 
iously inquired Mr. Lyford. 

“ No, sir, an’ I just tried hard’s ever I could. I 
couldn’t tell what it was, but it moved and there’s 
a fire there. It, whatever it was, crossed the step- 
ping stones and went down toward the barn. But 
I couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a girl.” 

“ Well, come on, boys,” cried Mr. Lyford. “ It 
won’t take us long to find out which it is.” 

“ Right in our own dooryard, too, almost,” Jim 
said as he slipped off a rock and led the others out 
into the trail again. “ Don’t it beat all how — ” 

“ Wait a minute,” suddenly exclaimed Mr. Ly- 
ford. “If that is the crazy counterfeiter and he 
gets back on those rocks before we reach them our- 
selves, he’s well protected from visitors. And if 
he’s armed — ” 

“ You mean, if he has a gun? ” Skip interrupted. 


98 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

“ Yes, just that. If he has and doesn’t want 
us to get over there and — and — my Helen is there 
— at the mercy of his crazy whims — what shall 
we do ? ” 

“ Well, now, don’t you worry about that, Mr. 
Lyford. ’Tain’t at all likely he has got a gun,” said 
Jim. “ If he’s there, I’ll bet we get him all right. 
So don’t you worry. There’s more’n one way to 
kill a cat. Why, s’posin’ he is over there — he’ll 
have to come hoppin’ back across those stones to 
get something to eat, won’t he? Perhaps to milk 
‘ Lazy Bones ’ again ! He can’t stay over forever. 
That’ll be our chance, provided we don’t get there 
now before he does.” 

“ Whatever we do, we must do quietly,” replied 
Mr. Lyford, smiling, in spite of his anxiety, at 
Jim’s enthusiasm. “ For you never can tell what 
a crazy man’ll do next. And we mustn’t let him 
see us. Now, how can we get to those stepping 
stones without being seen?” 

“ Follow me, I’ll show you, Mr. Lyford,” confi- 
dently answered Jim. 

“ Well,” murmured Skip, “ what I want to know, 
is, how we could have missed him, just now, in 
broad daylight, when we came right alongside of 
the brook.” 

“ There’s a kind of a hollow right in the middle 
of the little island,” answered Jim. “ The rocks 
hide it, and that’s where I saw the smoke.” 

“ Hush ! Lie down, some one’s coming,” whis- 
pered Skip. 


WHAT JIM SAW 


99 


With one accord all three fell flat on their faces 
and dragged themselves back of some tall weeds at 
the side of the trail. From here, they could watch, 
unseen, any one approaching from the direction of 
the farm. 

In a moment there came slouching into view an 
old, white-faced man. He was heavy and broad- 
shouldered and had furtive eyes which peered from 
under prominent brows as though afraid of some- 
thing. He was clad in Jim’s overalls and when 
Mr. Lyford recognized his own coat, which he had 
placed on his daughter’s arm the previous afternoon, 
buttoned snugly around the man’s stooping form, 
it was almost more than he could bear. Jim’s hand, 
which gripped his arm, alone kept him still. And 
when the boy pointed to a pistol which was thrust 
within the leather belt around the stranger’s waist, 
Mr. Lyford could only relax his taut muscles and 
sink back to the ground again. They must watch 
and be content to wait till they could take him un- 
aware and at a disadvantage. For though they 
were three and he but one, he was nearer the little 
island than they were, he was armed, and, notwith- 
standing his age, he had, probably, the unnatural 
strength possessed by the insane. All this the 
others realized as they lay hidden in the bushes, 
waiting for some move on the crazy man’s part to 
give them a signal to act. 

Presently, almost as silently as a snake glides 
along the earth, Jim crawled up to Mr. Lyford and, 
putting his lips close to his ear, whispered, “ When 


ioo THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


he steps out on the stones he’ll be back to, then 
we can rush him and upset him. He can’t hurt 
us when he’s flat down in the brook, and his gun’ll 
get wet, too.” 

Mr. Lyford and Skip, who had also heard, smiled 
and nodded their heads in approval. But when the 
stranger reached the stepping stones he did not cross 
over to the little clump of rocks and weeds in the 
middle of the brook. Instead, he sat down on a 
shelf-like rock facing the hidden watchers and drew 
from either pocket of Mr. Ly ford’s coat a pair of 
shoes. 

“ Sam’s Sunday ones,” breathed Jim, “ left out 
in the wood-shed to be cleaned. D’you ever?” 

The man proceeded to discard his own, worn-out 
pair, which he threw over his shoulder into the 
brook, for the newer and better ones. Evidently 
well pleased with the exchange, he stood up and 
stamped his feet down into them, smiling with the 
absorption of a child over a new toy. 

“ Now,” whispered Mr. Lyford. “ Now he’s 
going.” 

But, no! He again sat down, this time to par- 
take of a breakfast he had brought in the peck meas- 
ure. Eggs, which he cracked and swallowed raw — 
and blueberries, evidently just picked, for he shook 
the dew from them before he ate them, twigs and 
all. Before he finished, however, he took several 
pretty clusters of berries and three eggs and placed 
them together in a little pile. 

“ For Helen,” her father thought, and the tears 


WHAT JIM SAW 


IOI 


blinded his eyes. “ She must be over there ! Oh, 
why doesn’t he start ! ” 

As though animated by his wishes, the man did 
start. After using the peck measure as a cup and 
drinking freely of the clear, cold water which ran 
noiselessly by him, he dropped the measure in the 
brook and watched it spin round and glide off on 
the swift current. Then, picking up the berries and 
eggs and putting them in his pockets, he slowly rose 
and turned toward the stepping stones. Twice he 
glanced back and listened as though he almost knew 
he was being watched. Yet all was still. No one 
followed him, no sound broke the early morning 
silence of the forest. The pursuers, now sure of 
their success, could wait. They wanted him to 
reach deeper water. At last! He was half way 
over! The bushes and weeds were now violently 
thrust aside and with a wild whoop from the boys, 
who could keep quiet no longer, the three darted 
out over the slippery, because still dewy wet, step- 
ping stones. 

Swift as the boys were, however, Mr. Lyford 
easily outdistanced them. Half a dozen tremendous 
leaps brought him over the stones to the little island. 
Would he find Helen there? 


CHAPTER X 


THE CRAZY COUNTERFEITER 

CTARTLED by the unexpected noise behind him, 
^ the crazy counterfeiter, for such he proved to 
be, quickly turned, lost his balance and sat right 
down in the brook. The water bubbled over his 
shoulders and he lifted a pair of very surprised eyes 
to the boys, who stood knee-deep in the current in 
front of him. 

“ Well, I guess his gun ain’t much use any more,” 
laughed Skip. “ And s’pose we get him up on the 
bank. I don’t believe he’s over and above com- 
fortable where he is now.” They reached down 
and helped him to his feet. And in a moment, 
scrambling and floundering over the stones and 
against the swiftly flowing current, they all reached 
the ground and stamped about, getting the water 
from their heavy shoes and wringing dry their 
overalls. When Jim asked for it, the crazy counter- 
feiter handed him his revolver and though he did 
not speak, his deep-set, shifty eyes glanced from 
one to the other, and he chuckled to himself as 
though appreciating the way in which he had been 
caught. The boys stepped up, one on either side 
of him, and slipping their arm through his, started 
102 


THE CRAZY COUNTERFEITER 103 

toward the farm, thus forcing him, against his will, 
to accompany them. 

“ We’d better keep him away from the house,” 
said Jim. “ He might raise a rumpus and excite 
grandpa, and besides, the harness room’s the strong- 
est place to keep him in till — till — some one 
comes.” 

“ Why don’t you say, ‘ till the keeper comes,’ and 
be done with it!” interrupted the man. “You 
needn’t think that just because I’m crazy I haven’t 
got any sense.” 

“We haven’t said you were crazy,” replied Skip. 

“ Well, you’ve been told I’m crazy and you believe 
it,” came the answer. The boys looked at each 
other in surprise as the other continued : “ And 

you’re going to lock me up and send word to the 
keeper of the asylum that you’ve got me. Ain’t 
you?” 

“ That’s just about it,” agreed Skip, grimly smil- 
ing. “ But how d’you know so much about what 
we’re going to do, anyway ? ” 

“Me? Oh, I listened last night when you were 
talking about me. You never knew that I was at 
the end of the porch, did you? And then,” he 
continued, “you’ll all stand round and jaw, jaw, 
jaw, and come in and look at me like you would 
at a specimen in a museum. Oh, I know you, you 
Yankees! Now, here we are! Come on, lock me 
up. It’s safer — for I’m crazy — I am. But I’m a 
lot saner than you are, any of you. I wouldn’t 
have upset a poor, forlorn old man in an icy brook 


104 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


in order to get the best of him. No, sir! I would 
have — ” 

But by this time the “ poor old man,” as he 
called himself, though the boys thought he looked 
quite hale and hearty, had been gently pushed 
within the harness room. Jim, who went with 
him, made him as comfortable as he could. He 
opened the little, cobwebby window and spread some 
blankets over the carriage cushions for a couch. 
Skip, who had run on to the house to tell the news, 
returned with a plate of doughnuts and a pitcher 
of milk. 

“ There now,” said Jim, kindly, “ that’s the best 
we can do for you. Ring this cow bell out of the 
window if you want anything else. Want to change 
your clothes? Are they wet?” 

“ Wet? Why should they be wet? ” sneered the 
captive. “ It was a nice, dry brook. Now just you 
get out of this and let me alone.” His peaceful 
attitude suddenly changed and the boys just escaped 
being hit by the plate which had held the doughnuts 
as they quickly dodged and fastened the door be- 
tween them and the now infuriated man who began 
to hurl first one and then another article against 
the walls and door in quick succession. 

“ My! How he does go on,” cried Skip. “ Just 
listen to him.” 

“ Guess he’s crazy ’nough, all right,” laughed Jim. 
“ And now that we’ve got him, what’ll we do with 
him?” 

Sam hurried up just then in time to hear this 


THE CRAZY COUNTERFEITER 105 

remark, so he answered it. “ What’ll we do with 
him ? ” he cried ; “ we’ll hold onto him, till th’ 
’sylum folks git here an’ take him off’n our hands. 
Skip, s’posen you trot ’round somers, an’ see if Mr. 
Lyford found Helen all right. I’d like to know 
just what did happen to her, but don’t like ter leave 
this door till th’ pore critter inside gits through a 
banging things round. Jim, you’d better stand out 
by th’ window. Of course he carn’t git out thet 
way but yer carn’t never tell what a crazy man’ll do.” 

Jim hurried around the corner of the barn and 
now, hearing a new kind of noise, ventured to steal 
up and peer through the little window. The pris- 
oner, on his knees in a corner, was trying to pry 
loose, with his blunt fingers, some of the floor 
boards. Jim’s shadow darkened the small en- 
closure. The man looked around with a scowl. 
Then, seeing who it was he stood up and slouched 
over to the window. All signs of temper had left 
him. He was once more a crafty, quiet man, seem- 
ingly anxious to make friends with Jim because he 
picked up a doughnut from the dusty floor and 
offered it to him. 

“ Here, want one? ” he said, and when Jim shook 
his head he bit into it himself as he continued: 
“ Say, you saw me just now?” Jim nodded. 
“ What d’you suppose I was doing? You’d never 
guess so I suppose I might’s well tell you. I was 
hunting for the money Job Greenough hid before 
he ran away.” 

Jim was so interested he forgot the man was sup- 


10 6 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


posed to be crazy. He leaned his arms on the win- 
dow-sill. “ Do you know where Job Greenough 
is ? ” he asked. 

“ Huh ! ” grunted the man. “ S’pose I’d tell 
you? You’d arrest him an’ get the reward — and 
that’s what I want myself.” 

“ Well,” suggested Jim, “ we might go halves.” 
Then suddenly he remembered his compact with 
Skip and hastened to correct himself. “ No, I 
couldn’t do that,” he hastily added, “ because — ” 

“ Because I’ll tell you why,” interrupted the man. 
He brought his face down so close to Jim’s that the 
boy nervously drew back. “ I want that reward 
myself. First, for finding the money, and though 
they say it’s counterfeit, it’s all right, for it’s gold, 
real gold, and I want it, every cent of it. It’s 
buried round here, too. Then, I want the reward 
for finding Job Greenough, too. And if I could 
find him first, there’d be no use of hunting for the 
gold, because I’d make him tell me where to look. 
Ain’t that so? ” 

“ Well, you seemed to think there was, a moment 
ago,” answered Jim, pointing to the corner where 
the man had succeeded in prying one board loose. 
“ And Job Greenough’ s dead, anyway.” 

“ Dead ? ” sneered the man. “ He’s no more dead 
than I am.” 

“ How d’you know he isn’t?” persisted Jim. 

“ How d’you know he is?” insisted the other. 

As Jim could not answer this question he wisely 
kept silent and waited for the other to speak. He 


THE CRAZY COUNTERFEITER 107 


had to wait till all the doughnuts and the last of 
the milk had disappeared, however, before the occu- 
pant of the harness room seemed disposed to be 
sociable again. After he had walked nervously up 
and down over the uneven floor for a few times he 
once more approached the window and whispered: 

“ Say, I’m locked up good and tight, ain’t I ? 
Can’t get out any way ’tall, can I? You wouldn’t 
help me to escape, would you ? Thought not. Say, 
do you really think I’m crazy? ” 

“ Yes, I do,” bluntly answered Jim. 

“ Well, would you think I was crazy if I told 
you where the money was kept ? The money we all 
used to make here, on this farm? Not so many 
years ago ? I helped make it and I helped hide it.” 

“ No,” faltered Jim, “ I don’t know that I should 
— then. For you’d have to have some sense to re- 
member as much as that all these years, wouldn’t 
you? But, you didn’t help make the money,” he 
quickly added, “ and you never saw the secret 
room.” 

“ How d’you know I didn’t ? ” 

“ Why, Sam said you were only a ‘ fence.’ That 
you just got rid of the ‘ worthless coin.’ ” 

“ Hm,” the man smiled cunningly as he whis- 
pered, “ that’s all your precious Sam knows about 
it. What d’you think I came here for anyway? ” 

“ Why, I don’t know,” answered Jim. Then he 
laughed. “ Do you? ” 

“ Well, if I didn’t I wouldn’t be here. Listen, 
bend lower so no one’ll hear. Job Greenough is 


io8 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


alive and waiting till I die or am safe and sound 
in the asylum again. Then he’s coming here to dig 
up the money and get the reward for telling where 
the secret room is.” 

“ But, if he’s alive, w T hy hasn’t he done it be- 
fore?” asked Jim, half believing, in spite of him- 
self, that the story was true. 

“ Because he doesn’t want to divide with me. 
He’d have been back long before this if he hadn’t 
waited till he could get* me out of the way. You 
know he was the one that put me in the asylum. 
He doesn’t know I’m out. So just you wait. 
He’ll come soon. You let me out of this, will you? 
And then, when he gets here, I’ll, I’ll — ” 

“ Yes, yes, what then?” excitedly asked Jim. 

“ S’pose I’d tell you? ” chuckled the man. “ But 
let me out and then you’ll see.” He smiled at Jim 
and then sat down on the carriage cushions as 
though suddenly very tired. He nodded two or 
three times and finally laid down and pulled the robe 
over him. “ You wait and see what I’ll do,” he 
muttered; “Job’s alive; as much alive as you are. 
Don’t you suppose I know a thing or two, even 
if I am crazy? ” His eyes closed. He seemed fast 
asleep. Jim stood quite still and watched him. 
Suddenly he opened his eyes and glared at the boy 
in so wild a manner Jim was very glad the window 
was as small as it was. “Just you wait and see 
me kill — kill — kill him,” he cried. “ Do you 
think I’m going to be kept from getting the best 
of him after waiting all these years? You just 


THE CRAZY COUNTERFEITER 109 


wait and see what’ll happen when Job Greenough 
gets here. And he's on his way now! No bars 
nor locks can keep me from him. You just wait 
and see what’ll happen when he gets here.” 

“ How’ll you know when he comes? ” asked Jim. 

“ Don’t you suppose I know a thing or two, even 
if I am crazy? ” repeated the man. “ I ain’t going 
to tell you, but just you wait and see. I’ll make 
you open your eyes ! ” As soon as he had finished 
this astonishing remark he turned his back on Jim 
and in a few moments was fast asleep. 

Jim was so mixed up in his mind he didn’t know 
just what to think. So he decided to step around 
the corner and talk things over with Sam. Per- 
haps there was more or less truth in the crazy man’s 
story after all. 


CHAPTER XI 


HELEN’S ADVENTURE 

QKIP and Helen reached Sam the same moment 
^ Jim did and when he was reassured by the 
hired man that he “ mustn’t take any stock in what 
the counterfeiter said, because he’s crazy as a loon,” 
Jim turned his attention to Helen. She had been 
up at the camp, telling her mother and father about 
her experiences and now that they were quite sure 
she was all right and had not suffered from her 
night of exposure, they had sent her down to the 
farm to thank Jim for his part in her rescue. 

“ Tell me about it,” he said, flushing with em- 
barrassment at her words of praise and anxious to 
change the subject. He hated to be thanked for 
anything so simple, he said, “ as climbing a tree. 
How d’you meet him, anyway? Your father and 
I watched you ’most of the way out of the glen.” 

“ Well, so you did,” answered Helen, “ and if 
I hadn’t seen those stepping stones, and some wild 
roses growing between the rocks on the little is- 
land, nothing would have happened. But I did see 
’em and wanted to get them for mother. I thought 
they’d look so pretty in the center of the supper 
table, our first night in the country. So I crossed 
no 


HELEN’S ADVENTURE 


hi 


over and, Jim, isn’t it the cutest little place? Ger- 
trude and I’ll have lots of fun there. Well, when 
I’d picked all the wild roses and wild carrot I could 
carry and turned round to go back, there he was, 
crossing over the stones after me ! ” 

“ I wanter know,” exclaimed Sam. “ Face to 
face with a crazy man, out there, all alone in the 
woods. You pore little girl ! ” 

“ Well, Sam,” laughed Helen, “ I’m not so very 
little and I’m almost as old as Jim, and of course 
then, I didn’t know he was crazy.” 

“ What’d you do when you saw him ? ” asked 
Skip. 

“ I kept right on just as though no one was there, 
to cross back to the trail again,” replied Helen. 
“ And I said ‘ good afternoon ’ to him ’cause I 
thought he was a farmer v and I wanted to be polite. 
Then I began to be frightened because he grabbed 
father’s overcoat from my arm and said, ‘ I want it.’ 
He only had a flannel undershirt on, but I hadn’t 
noticed it till he took father’s coat. He buttoned 
it up quick as though afraid I’d take it away from 
him and he was standing right in front of the stones, 
too, and I thought he’d never finish with that coat 
and step aside and then I found that he wasn’t 
going to move ! He meant to keep me there ! Oh, 
then I was so frightened I couldn’t speak. He saw 
he’d scared me for he smiled and said, ‘ I won’t 
hurt you, little girl, don’t you be afraid. Only 
I’ve got to keep you here till I find Job Greenough.’ ” 
“ Laws ! ” interrupted Sam. 


1 12 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Of course I didn’t know who Job Greenough 
was and when I told him so and that I had only 
just come from the city, he said that didn’t make 
any difference, he’d have to keep me there anyway 
till he’d got the best of Job. ’Cause I’d tell on him 
if he’d let me go and then Job would know where 
he was. Who is Job, anyway? I asked father 
and he said you’d tell me all about it, Jim, that’s 
partly why I came down, just now.” 

“ You finish your story first and then I’ll tell 
you our part of it,” suggested Jim. So Helen con- 
tinued : 

“ Well, I trembled so I couldn’t talk. I sat right 
down there at his feet and just looked up at him. 
And he looked down at me and never spoke for the 
longest time. I guess he was thinking what to do 
with me for he peered all round, much as he could 
without giving me a chance to run away. At last I 
knew he’d decided upon something for he began to 
laugh — a funny little laugh and when I heard that 
I felt better for I just knew a man who could laugh 
like that wouldn’t hurt a little girl. 4 Come, get 
up,’ he said, reaching out his hand to help me, and 
he made me scramble down to the grassy place in 
the center of the island where he had a bonfire burn- 
ing, and a horse blanket.” 

“Judge’s,” laughed Sam. 

“ And some milk and eggs and berries,” added 
Helen. “ ‘ Here’s your supper,’ he said, ‘ and when 
you’re sleepy, wrap yourself up in that blanket.’ 
‘ Oh, won’t you let me go home?’ I cried. ‘Yes, 


HELEN’S ADVENTURE 


ii3 

when you tell me where Job Greenough is,’ he re- 
plied. 4 But I don’t know where he is,’ I answered 
and I just yelled at him, I was so frightened; ‘I 
only came to-day.’ ‘ Then I’ll have to find him my- 
self,’ he said, without paying any attention to me 
and he began to build the fire up and to talk to him- 
self in such a low, funny way that I just couldn’t 
stand it. I started to run but of course he caught 
me and then he took an old piece of rope and tied it 
around my two ankles — ‘hobbling a colt,’ — he 
called it.” 

The boys and Sam burst out laughing. “ And 
then,” continued Helen, “ though I could only take 
little, short steps I could get from one rock to an- 
other. He made me try. ‘ Now then,’ he said, 
‘ you stay here and I’ll go and find Job. Then I’ll 
come back and untie you. But if you yell or make 
a noise I’ll shoot you.’ And he pointed a big pistol 
right at me.” 

“ Wait a minute till I see what he’s up to now,” 
whispered Jim, and he jumped up from the ground 
and ran around to look in at the little window. 
“ All right, he’s still fast asleep,” he said, returning. 
“ Now, tell the rest.” 

“ Well, that’s about all,” replied Helen. “ I kept 
perfectly quiet and he didn’t come back. I just 
stayed there, scared and trembling and crying, too, 
I guess, most of the night, for I saw the moon and 
lots of stars. Then I fell asleep and didn’t know 
anything more till father came scrambling down 
over the rocks and woke me up. I never once 


1 1 4 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


thought the man was crazy till father told me. 
Now you tell me about him, Jim.” 

Jim, Sam and Skip all told the story together and 
while they were still going over the mystery of the 
secret room and the probability of ever finding Job 
Greenough, the noon whistle blew and a minute later 
Ellen rang the dinner bell. Jim spent the afternoon 
working on the farm with Sam and directly after 
supper went to bed. He thought he had never been 
so tired before. Not till the next morning was half 
over did he, quite rested and hungry again, wake 
up to the duties and pleasures of another warm day. 
He scrambled into his clothes without much cere- 
mony and hurried downstairs. Ellen was stirring 
something on the stove and it smelled so good Jim 
gave a little sigh as he said, “ Is that for grandpa? 
I wish I could have some, too.” 

Ellen laughed. " Good morning,” she said. 
“You can have all you want, though I doubt if 
you'll like a milk diet But there's quite enough for 
two, so if you'll get a bowl I'll pour you out some to 
go with your breakfast which is covered up on the 
pantry shelf.” 

Presently, Jim, happy in the knowledge that his 
grandfather was steadily improving though he 
could not yet see him, ran out to work with Sam 
who was spending a tiresome though profitable 
morning in the kitchen garden. When they raked 
up all the leaves for Cuba to feed on later the gar- 
den looked almost as prosperous and well cared for 
as usual. 


HELEN’S ADVENTURE 


H5 

“ ’Nother mornin’ at ’em an’ I bet we’ll get rid of 
th’ pesky things,” mused Sam. He slowly straight- 
ened up and looked with satisfaction at the result of 
his tiresome labor. “ It suttinly gits th’ best of me, 
th’ way them weeds grow.” 

“ Me, too,” sighed Jim, sympathetically. “ But I 
don’t mind weeding half so much as haying. I’m 
awfully glad we haven’t got half so much of that to 
do this summer as we generally have, Sam.” 

“ So’m I,” answered the other, “ but you needn’t 
worry, Jim, fearin’ there won’t be ’nough work ter 
do ter keep both on us busy. It’s true th’ college 
fellers hes taken th’ heft of th’ farm work off’n our 
shoulders but we’ve plenty to do, jest th’ same. 
You’ll hev ter take your grandpop’s place at th’ 
work, I guess.” 

Jim nodded. “ I expect to do that,” he said. 

“ Wal, this afternoon I want you should — ” 

“ Oh, Sam ! Skip’s coming up again this after- 
noon. Can’t I have half a day off? ” 

“ What, again ? ” 

“ Yes, just this once. We’ve something special 
on hand. We were going to do it yesterday but of 
course we couldn’t on account of the crazy counter- 
feiter.” 

“ It ’pears ter me you allers do manage to hev 
something special on hand,” laughed Sam. “ But I 
guess ’twill keep fer a day er two, so far’s Skip’s 
concerned, anyway. For this morning Mr. Lyford 
sont him to th’ village ter drive while his wife did 
some shopping for their tent-housekeeping. Ket- 


1 16 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


ties and pans and things. He’ll be up furst thing 
after dinner. As they drove by he hollared fur you 
to wait for him.” 

“ All right, then, I s’ pose I’ll have to.” 

“ What wuz you a callatin to do, find the secret 
room ? Or hev yer already done so ? ” 

Jim’s laughing denial was no sooner made than 
the call to the midday meal came and after that was 
over, Skip arrived and with him his father. They 
brought the keepers who had come for the runaway, 
still safely locked up in the harness room. 

The reward for his capture was so small in com- 
parison to the number of those who had helped find 
him that all decided to spend the money on a new 
outfit for the poor man — overcoat, shoes, clothes. 
Of course he had quite ruined those in which he had 
run away and Jim and Skip could not bear the 
thought of seeing the man who had tried so hard 
to gain his freedom put on the striped charity uni- 
form again. They stood together and watched the 
prisoner leave the barn and greet the keepers. He 
willingly allowed them to handcuff him and to help 
him into the surrey in which he was to drive to the 
station. The boys felt sorry to see him go. They 
wished he had stayed longer for despite the opinion 
of the others they more than half believed his story 
about the coming of Job Greenough. As though 
reading their thoughts the man leaned over the 
wheel and spoke to them. 

“ Mind what I say, you boys,” he whispered, 
“ Job’s around here, somewhere. Get busy and find 


HELEN’S ADVENTURE 


ii 7 

the money and the secret room first or he will. 
And then you’ll never see a cent of the reward ! ” 
The boys laughed, waved their hands at him and 
then he drove away. 

“ Seems a mean shame to have him go back to the 
asylum, doesn’t it?” said Jim. “When he’s so 
sensible some of the time. Well,, come on, let’s see 
if we can get upstairs now. If we ever do expect 
to find that secret room we’d better be about it or if 
what he says is true, Job Greenough’ll get ahead of 


CHAPTER XII 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 

' I ^HE boys scampered into the house intent on 
^ their quest but they were to be disappointed 
at once. When they met the nurse in the hall and 
said, in answer to her questions, that they were only 
going upstairs on the third floor in order to “ look 
’round,” she would not let them go. “ The entire 
house must be kept absolutely quiet,” she said, “ for 
my patient’s sake. What do you want from up- 
stairs ? Can I get anything for you ? ” The boys 
thanked her and said “ no ” and had to content 
themselves with gazing at the closed shutters of that 
mysterious corner on the third floor and hoping for 
rain that they might go upstairs and shut all the 
windows. They were sure they could discover 
something if only they could get up there again. 
Why didn’t it rain? Why, indeed! 

The oldest inhabitant could not remember so hot 
and dry a summer. Day after day passed with 
never a cloud in the sky and no wind to rustle the 
drooping branches of the trees or cool the workers 
in the fields. The brook in the glen grew lower and 
lower. It soon became quite easy to reach the lit- 
tle island without using the stepping stones and yet 
118 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 119 

keep one’s shoes dry. Sara, Skip’s sister, taught 
Helen and Gertrude Lyford what fun it was to 
wiggle their bare toes in the soft earth and paddle 
about in the rippling shallows and when the boys 
could get an hour from their work the five children 
would have fine times sailing boats in many a shoal 
basin of the upper brook or playing “ cops and rob- 
bers,” on the little island that Helen had named 
“ Wild Rose Rock.” Every morning, too, most of 
the campers would come down to the pool at the 
bridge to take a plunge in its clear depths and the 
children were always of the number. Thus, with 
an almost equal division of work and play, time 
passed. 

At the end of the week the nurse left. Ellen was 
once more in charge of the sick room and Mr. Bur- 
ton was improving every day. Yet he was not able 
to stand and Dr. Brown would not let Jim speak 
of the locket and chain. When asked for permis- 
sion he would say, “ Wait another day.” 

At last, when the boy was on the verge of open 
rebellion the reason for the doctor’s delay was made 
known. One afternoon he came as usual for his 
daily visit but, instead of hitching his horse to the 
post in front of the house as was his custom, he 
drove around to the barn. 

“ Hullo,” he said to Ellen, who looked out of the 
kitchen window, “ how’s your patient?” 

“ Sound asleep, so I took this chance to make his 
broth.” 

He drank some from the cup she offered and said ; 


120 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Good ; don’t wake him up, for I’ll stay to supper 
so can see him later. Where’s Jim?” 

“ Splitting kindlings in the shed. Shall I call 
him?” 

“ No, I’ll find him,” and the doctor let Sam, who 
was mending the harness near by, take his horse. 
Then, guided by the whack, whack of the quickly 
descending ax, he quietly made his way to the 
wood pile and stood watching Jim for several min- 
utes before he was discovered. 

At last the boy looked up and saw him. They ex- 
changed greetings, and then Jim, coming forward, 
said, “ Doctor Brown, you’re going to let me tell 
my grandfather to-day! ” 

“ That’s so,” the doctor answered, with a smile, 
“ I came to let you know.” 

“ Can I go in now ? ” 

“ No, Mr. Burton’s asleep and I’m going to stay 
to supper so there’s plenty of time. Want to go 
fishing in the glen? You can tell him after we get 
back.” 

“ All right, but the brook’s so low I don’t be- 
lieve we’ll catch anything ’less we go beyond the 
bridge.” 

“ We’ll try, anyway. The meadows are too hot 
to-day.” 

“ Then I’ll get the fishing tackle,” answered Jim; 
“ it’s in the barn, and tell Sam. We can dig the 
bait up there.” 

Though the dim, green shadows of the glen did 
prove far more pleasing than the sunny stretches of 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 121 


the meadow, Jim was right about the fish. They 
had evidently retired to rocky and unknown hollows 
in the bed of the brook, whose shallow waters 
scarcely more than covered its winding bed. Dr. 
Brown did not mind his non-success. Indeed, after 
a few, quiet moments he reeled in his line and 
dropping his pole on the ground beside him, leaned 
back against the trunk of a tree and watched Jim. 
He, as unsuccessful as his companion, at last fol- 
lowed his example and also gave up trying to catch 
the wary trout. 

“ Better luck next time,” then said the doctor. 
“ I scarcely thought we’d catch anything to-day. 
Indeed, I proposed coming up here simply as an ex- 
cuse to get you away somewhere so I could talk to 
you about your grandfather. The others will have 
to know, too, but I wanted to tell you first.” 

“ Oh, dear ! What is it this time ! Isn’t he go- 
ing to get well, after all ? ” 

“Yes, my boy; your grandfather is practically 
well now, but I am afraid — he — will — never 
walk again.” 

“ Why, Dr. Brown, what d’you mean ? ” 

“ He is paralyzed from the waist down, Jim.” 

A long silence followed. Then Jim looked miser- 
ably at the doctor. “ Poor grandpa,” he said. 
“ Does he know it? Have you told him? ” 

“ No. For several days I’ve been on the verge 
of telling him but couldn’t bring myself to the point. 
I’m afraid I’ve been cowardly about it, Jim. But 
to-day I decided not to wait any longer and as I 


122 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


drove along on my way here racked my brain try- 
ing to think of some easy way to tell him.” 

“ And did you? ” 

“ No. I see no way of softening the truth. The 
fewer words I use the better. But, when I tell him, 
I want you to be on hand to show him the locket and 
chain. Then — ” 

“ You think that’ll keep him from worrying too 
much ? ” 

“ That’s my idea exactly,” answered the doctor. 

“ And you’re sure he’ll never walk again, Dr. 
Brown ? ” 

“ I’m afraid so, Jim. Everything indicates it.” 

“ All right, then. Come on. Let’s get it over 
with as soon as possible.” 

The two slung their fishing rods over their shoul- 
ders and for some moments walked along without 
speaking. Then Jim exclaimed : 

“ Oh, Dr. Brown, I am so anxious to know about 
my father. It seems to me I’ve never wanted him 
so much in my life before as I have this summer. 
Of course I don’t want you to think that I don’t feel 
sorry about my grandfather, for I do, but I can’t 
think of anything else, hardly, ’cept my father. I 
do want him to come home so! You have no idea 
how much I want him. I don’t think of anything 
else, ’cept the secret room ! ” 

“ And it is perfectly right for you to feel so,” 
the doctor replied. “ You can show your sympathy 
for your grandfather every day to come in little acts 
of loving service to him. Well, here we are. You 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 123 


stay on the porch, Jim. I’ll go in first and when I 
call you follow and be as cheerful as you can. I’m 
depending on you to help me out.” He entered the 
house on his dreaded errand while Jim sat down on 
the stone steps and, with the locket and chain in his 
hand, waited to be called. A few minutes later, 
Blackie, as though knowing her friend to be there, 
came up the cellar-way, and proudly pranced around 
the corner of the house to lay a dead mouse at his 
feet. Then she immediately disappeared, evidently 
to hunt again. Jim had scarcely disposed of this 
one before she came back with another and not till 
she had brought four little mice and one big one, 
to the laughing boy who made as many trips to bury 
them, did she consider her duty done. Then, 
curled up in his lap as he again sat on the steps she 
purred herself to sleep. 

“ There’s one good thing about you, Blackie,” 
Jim said, while gently stroking her soft fur. “ You 
are not a cannibal cat. You kill ’em but you don’t 
eat ’em.” Just then his attention was caught by 
voices from within and he straightened up, thinking 
he heard his name. But it was a false alarm. He 
was not yet wanted. So he took a magazine from 
a chair where Sam had recently been sitting and 
thought he’d try to read. The pages fell open at the 
advertising section in the back and he gazed idly 
from one pictured household utensil and farming 
implement to another. Suddenly, however, he 
stopped and looked for a long time at the sketch of 
a man in a wheel chair. After reading the text over 


124 THE mystery of grey oak inn 


several times he tore the page out, folded it up care- 
fully and put it in his pocket. Then, dropping 
Blackie and the magazine, he became so absorbed in 
his busy thoughts that, after all, he did not hear Dr. 
Brown call him and not till he came from the house 
and laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder did Jim 
know he was wanted. 

“ Dreaming? ” asked the doctor. 

“ Guess I must have been,” quickly answered Jim. 
He jumped to his feet, all excitement. “ Can I go 
in now? How’d he take it? ” 

“ My boy, he knew. I didn’t have to tell him.” 

“ Poor grandpa ! ” Jim’s lips trembled. He 
quite forgot their frequent and unfriendly disputes. 
“ Isn’t it awful, Dr. Brown ? I just hate to see him. 

I won’t know what to say.” 

“ You needn’t worry about that,” came the an- 
swer. “ He saw at once I was troubled about some- 
thing and made it easy for me by telling me he knew 
all about it. I was the one to be comforted, not 
him.” 

“ Who told him?” 

“ No one. He guessed it. Said he knew it as 
soon as he was able to think at all and has been 
making up his mind to be sensible about it ever 
since. What do you think of that? ” 

“ That’s just like him,” proudly answered Jim. 
“ You can’t get the best of my grandfather. I 
might have known he wouldn’t make a fuss or 
anything.” 

“ That’s so,” agreed the doctor, “ and I might 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 125 


have known how he’d take it, too. And as he has 
little, if any, further need of my services, I shall 
come to see him from this time on, more as a friend 
than a doctor. You can tell him about the locket 
and chain any time you want to, now, Jim.” 

“ All right, I’ll tell him pretty soon, then. To- 
night after supper, I guess. I want to speak to you 
about something else now. Do you have to go in 
there again, right away ? ” 

“ No, Ellen’s just taken his supper to him and 
presently she’s going to call us to ours. So we have 
a few minutes. What is it ? ” 

“ This, Dr. Brown.” Jim thrust the locket and 
chain back in his pocket and taking the magazine 
page from it, opened it and handed it to the doctor. 
“ Don’t you think that kind of a chair would be nice 
for my grandfather? You see it says that the one 
in it can move from place to place by just running 
his hands over the wheels. And there’s a spring 
to let the back down and make it into kind of a bed. 
Do you think it’s all right ? ” 

“ Yes, Jim, I know that chair. I’ve seen it in 
Burlington. It seems to be all its makers claim for 
it.” 

“ Well, then, I want to get it for him. Will you 
manage it for me? I’ve got ten dollars and sixty 
cents of my own money saved up, you know, and 
will you lend me the rest ? ” 

Dr. Brown looked absent-mindedly at the adver- 
tisement and did not answer so Jim continued, 
“ You see, the chair, with all its fixings, foot stool 


126 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


and everything, comes to fifteen dollars. I thought 
you’d — - maybe, lend me the rest of the money and 
let me pay you back as I earn it. Mr. Lyford gives 
me ten cents every time I take the milk up to the 
camp and fifteen cents an hour when I work for him. 
And grandpa says all that money’s my own.” He 
looked expectantly up into the doctor’s face. 

“ But, Jim,” came the answer, “ I thought this 
money was to help you find your father ? ” 

The boy flushed and hesitated. Then he said, 
“ Well, it is — was, I mean. I know my grand- 
father’d be nice and comfortable in that chair, 
though, and I guess my father’d want me to get it 
for him if he knew all the particul’rs. Besides, I 
mean to get the thousand-dollar reward, you know, 
in spite of what the crazy counterfeiter said about 
Job Greenough’s snooping ’round for it, himself. 
For it seems to me he can’t claim it without getting 
caught, can he?” 

“ Reward ? What reward ? ” 

“ For the secret room, Dr. Brown, oh, I bet you 
know, all right.” 

The doctor laughed. “ I wouldn’t count too 
much on that,” he said. “ There’s Ellen calling us 
in to supper. Let’s go. Yes, my boy, I’ll lend you 
the money and send for the chair. It ought to come 
within a week. Your grandfather will be so de- 
lighted with it I’m sure you’ll feel more than repaid. 
But think first about your father, Jim. You may 
not find the secret room nor discover Job Green- 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 127 

ough’s hiding place. You may never get a cent 
of that reward. What then ? ” 

“ I should be awfully sorry, of course, Dr. Brown, 
but I guess grandpa needs that chair just now more 
than I need my father. And please don’t say any- 
thing about it to him. I want to surprise him.” 

An hour later the boy stood by the roadside and 
watched the doctor drive off, the precious money and 
advertisement safely tucked away in his pocket. 
Then he went in to see his grandfather. 

“ Oh, grandpa, I’m so sorry,” he said. 

“ I know you are, my boy, but be thankful I’m all 
right in my t’other end. There’s a bright side to 
everything, you know ; look on that.” 

“ Grandpa, you make me think of what Sam said 
about you,” and Jim smiled through the tears that 
persisted in filling his eyes. 

“ What’s that?” 

“ You ‘ certingly are the beatingest,’ and I think 
so, too.” 

“ Glad you do, Jim.” 

“ And I only wish I could do something to help 
you.” 

“ You can. Don’t feel bad about me any more. 
There’s no use crying over spilt milk. By the way, 
you taking milk up to the camp every day? That’s 
good. You’ll have quite a little money saved up, 
by and by, won’t you? Well, you know, Jim, even 
the best doctors in the land are sometimes mistaken 
and I’m going to prove that Dr. Brown is ! Though 


128 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


I d’know but what that’d be a pretty mean way to 
treat him after all he’s done for me, patching me 
up almost as good as new, wouldn’t it ? It certainly 
would be hard on him to make him acknowledge he 
was in the wrong as to my legs,” 

“ What do you mean to do, grandpa ? ” 

“ I mean to WALK, that’s what!” The old 
man’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “ I mean to 
show the people of this county that my usefulness 
ain’t all gone yet ! ” 

“ I bet you do it, too,” said Jim, looking at his 
grandfather with admiration. The man laughed at 
the boy’s implicit faith. 

“ Well, well, we won’t talk any more about it 
now,” he said. “ Let’s change the subject. What 
a time you had with the crazy counterfeiter, didn’t 
you? I heard all about him from the doctor. But 
I was very glad I didn’t see him, though I remember 
him well. And Mr. Jones tells me you know about 
the secret room.” 

“ Yes, sir, Sam told Skip and me. We opened 
up the house, too. Do you mind, grandpa? ” 

“ No, don’t know that I do. Seems to me you 
are sensible enough now to know that old story. 
I haven’t told you before because I didn’t want to 
fill your mind with a lot of nonsense about the mat- 
ter. ’Pears to me, though, I needn’t have worried, 
for my fall seems to have knocked a good deal of 
sense into your head ! The men folks tell me you’re 
likely to turn out all right, Jim; but don’t you get 
puffed up yet awhile, for it’s astonishing where all 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 129 

the bright boys go. ’Tany rate, the men they turn 
into don’t seem to be over and above ordinary.” 

Jim laughed. “ You said you wanted me to help 
you, grandpa.” 

“ Yes, I do. I guess it is about time now that 
you had a let up from work and had some fun of 
your own. I want you to find the secret room. 
That is, if you can.” 

“ Oh, grandpa, how’d you know I have been just 
crazy to do that ever since Skip and I knew about 
it?” 

“ Which, hunt for it or find it? ” 

“ Why, both, of course,” laughingly answered 
Jim. 

“ Well,” answered his grandfather, “ I was a 
boy, myself, once.” 

“ Then you know just how Skip and I feel about 
hunting for it,” Jim replied. “ But I don’t see why, 
grandpa, if you hunted for it, you didn’t find it? 
I think I know where it is, already.” 

“ You do? ” 

“ Yes. Skip and I looked for it, of course, but 
didn’t have much time to hunt for it that first day 
and we haven’t been allowed to go upstairs since 
because the nurse and Dr. Brown were afraid we’d 
disturb you if we made a noise. But I’m just sure 
I know where that secret room is.” 

“ Certain sure, are you?” laughed his grand- 
father. “ Well, you can begin to hunt in earnest 
to-morrow and you needn’t be afraid of worrying 
me if you do make a noise. I am quite strong and 


1 3 o THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

well again so far as my head is concerned and hope 
I can stand a good, healthy noise all right. So long 
as you don’t actually tear the house down I don’t 
care what you do.” 

“ Skip may join in, too? ” 

“Of course, it wouldn’t be much fun without your 
side partner, would it ? ” 

“ Say, grandpa,” persisted Jim. “ Why didn’t 
you find the secret room ? ” 

“ Because, my boy, I wasn’t sure there was one. 
You know the detectives said they found enough 
tools, machinery and things under the wood pile in 
the shed to account for any amount of counterfeit- 
ing done, so, as I had so much else to worry me then 
I didn’t hunt around for a reward for what I wasn’t 
sure existed. I was a man then, too, you know, 
and didn’t believe things so easily as boys do. But 
since I’ve been lying here, flat on my back, with 
more than time enough to think things over, I’ve 
come to the conclusion that there may be something 
in that secret room idea, after all. As I look back 
over the past certain memories seem to point that 
way. So you and Skip go ahead. Don’t tell me 
all the details, they’d bother me. But report to me 
when you’ve done or found anything. I’ve told 
Sam to let you quit work for a day or two.” 

“ Oh, good for you, grandpa, thank you ever so 
much,” delightedly cried Jim. Then Mr. Burton, 
making an effort at self-control, said: 

“ I s’pose Sam told you about my trouble at the 
time your father was born ? ” 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 13 1 

“ Yes, sir, he did,” and Jim’s hand shyly crept 
over the counterpane and rested for a moment on 
his grandfather’s. “ It must have been awful. 
Sam said that was why you wouldn’t live in the 
house any longer but built the extension.” 

“ Yes, that’s so.” 

“ I’m sorry about that, grandpa, but I do wish 
we lived here. These rooms are so nice and com- 
fortable and cool. It’s awfully hot weather now 
and you have no idea how scorching the extension 
is. I hate to go to bed nights, and when I do 
go I can’t get to sleep for hours and hours.” 

“ You would like to live here? ” 

“ Oh, wouldn’t I ! ” 

“ Well, we ain’t a-going to. And just as soon as 
I can manage it, I’ll close up here and move back 
into my old rpom. I can’t bear this terrible house. 
And the thought of all those empty, silent rooms up- 
stairs in rows, gives me the creeps. They are full 
of unhappy memories, Jim. I’m sorry about the 
hot weather, but it can’t last much longer.” 

Jim did not reply. He knew, when his grand- 
father spoke in so decided a way it was useless to 
plead with him. So he wisely kept silent, hiding 
his disappointment as best he could and wondering 
how to introduce the subject which had lain for so 
long a time close to his heart. The next words 
from the invalid solved the difficulty and made his 
answer so easy he spoke before he realized what he 
was saying. 

“ Well, I don’t suppose Sam, or the doctor, or 


132 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


Mr. Jones told you anything about your father, did 
they, Jim ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, Sam did, but not till he had seen this,” 
and at last the little, old-fashioned locket, on its 
thin chain, was dropped from a small, dirty, hot 
hand, into the thin, white one held to receive it 
“ It popped right out of the tree when you fell, and 
I found it on the ground next to your hat. W asn’t 
it too wonderful for anything, grandpa?” and Jim 
trembled with excitement. Then he scarcely 
breathed as he waited for some word from the quiet 
man in the big, old bed. One shaking, eager hand 
went up to cover trembling lips, the other clutched 
the locket close to his tired heart. He closed his eyes 
and leaned back against the pillows with a deep, deep 
sigh. To Jim the silence was terrible. He wanted 
to get off the bed and steal away, yet was afraid to 
move. Long minutes passed. Then Ellen, who 
had appeared in the doorway a short time before, 
motioned to him. How he reached her he never 
knew but in a minute they were both on the porch 
and he was chokingly asking her if he had killed his 
grandfather. 

“ No, no,” she smilingly answered, “ don’t you 
worry the least bit in the world, Jim. You didn’t 
do anything wrong. Indeed, I don’t see how you 
could have done anything different. He’ll feel bet- 
ter in a few minutes. I’ll sit out here by the door 
where I can hear him when he calls, but there’s no 
need for us both to stay, so why don’t you go down 


JIM AND HIS GRANDFATHER 133 

and see Skip for a while ? It won’t be bedtime for 
an hour yet.” 

“ If you’re sure — ” began Jim, doubtfully. 

“ Of course I’m sure,” came the quick and smiling 
answer. “ Your grandfather’s all right, I tell you, 
Jim. It was natural for the sight of that long-lost 
locket to make him feel bad for a while but there’s 
nothing to worry about. By and by I guess he’ll 
tell you all about your father and then I s’pose you’ll 
be going away to find him.” 

“ You just bet I will, and I guess grandpa’ll be 
the first one to send me, too. I guess he’s almost 
as anxious as I am to see my father. Goodness! 
Did you see how he looked when I gave him that 
locket? Cricky, but I was scared. Don’t you think 
he’ll ask for me in a few minutes? ” 

“ Well, if he does, he can’t see you. He’s had 
enough excitement to-night to last him fdr a month 
of Sundays. What were you talking about at first ? 
Seems to me you were in there a pretty long time.” 

“ The secret room, and oh, Ellen, he says for me 
to go ahead and find it. That is, if I can. He 
thinks there may be one, after all. So I guess I 
will go down to Skip’s. I’ve got just heaps to tell 
him, and if he can come I’ll bring him back for 
the night. Then we can begin to hunt the first 
thing in the morning. Well, so long. Tell grand- 
pa if he wanted to talk to me, that you wouldn’t 
let him, will you, Ellen? I won’t be gone so very 
long.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


OUTSIDE THE SECRET ROOM 

TX7HEN the old-fashioned banjo clock on the 
* * kitchen wall struck five, the room was still 
gray and dim with early morning light. No sooner 
had the last metallic note sounded than Jim and 
Skip softly stole from the pantry where they had 
just eaten a hasty breakfast of beans and brown 
bread, washed down with copious draughts of milk. 
Though they could have waited till the usual time 
and eaten a good, hot meal with Ellen and Sam, 
they were. so anxious to begin their work that they 
chose this way of entering upon what was to prove 
a most exciting day. They wanted to get upstairs 
as soon as possible without waking Mr. Burton, 
Sam, who slept on the sofa in the hall, or Ellen, 
who was in a room just at the top of the first flight 
of stairs. The boys stood at the kitchen door and 
silently pondered this question for a moment; then 
Jim motioned to Skip and hurried outdoors. 

“ I’ll tell you what,” he whispered, “ let’s shinny 
up the maple and climb in the back window over the 
roof. The big branch scrapes the ridge pole. I’ll 
go first with the hammer and chisel and you bring 
the line and the paper and pencil.” 

134 


OUTSIDE THE SECRET ROOM 135 

“ All right, Eve got ’em in my pocket. Go 
ahead.” 

Jim easily sprang into the crotch of the maple 
tree and soon was crawling out on the branch that 
grew in a protecting way over the low, extension 
roof. In a moment he sat astride the sill on the 
open window to wait for Skip who, though follow- 
ing as fast as he could, took some time longer to 
reach the same spot. Then they stealthily made 
their way to the dust-covered stairs which wound 
around to the upper floor. 

“ I almost feel like a burglar,” whispered Skip. 

“ So do I, ain’t it fine? ” Jim answered. 

“ Well, I d’know ’bout that,” came in a subdued 
giggle from the other, “I’ve never been one. I 
meant the dark and the quiet and everything.” 

“ So do I. That’s what makes it so great — this 
creepy feeling of doing something you’ve never done 
before, before daylight. Just think what we’re 
going to find, too.” 

“ Now don’t you be too sure of that,” laughed 
the doubting, if more practical, Skip. “ But I’m 
glad for one thing, it’s a warm morning. I’m 
shivery ’nough as ’tis.” 

“ That’s nerves. Shivers always go with a secret 
like this. Now then, come on. Here we are.” 

“ What you going to do first ? ” 

“ Well, first thing, I’m going to find out how long 
the wall of the carpenter’s shop is, out here in the 
hall, and inside, in the room. Then I’m going to 
measure the distance from the end of the room to 


1 36 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


this window in the hall. Then, you see, we’ll know 
just about how much room there is behind this,” and 
he gave the space of faded wall paper at his elbow 
a good, hard blow. Much to his surprise, it re- 
sulted in a ghostly echo. In spite of his expecta- 
tions he had scarcely looked for so accurate an an- 
swer to his assertion. 

“ There, what did I tell you,” he excitedly cried. 
“ I’ll bet you anything the secret room is there, the 
other side of this wall. Let’s get to work right off. 
Here, you take this end of the fish line — see, I’ve 
tied a red string round it every two feet for a 
measure — and stand by the door. I’ll do the 
pacing.” 

“ Cricky,” cried Skip, and he obediently followed 
directions. Then passed several minutes of measur- 
ing and re-measuring closets, room and hall, at the 
end of which time the boys fairly hugged each other 
in their excitement. 

At a point in the hall, a measured six feet from 
the window, was the first corner of the room called 
the carpenter’s shop. This corner was in a closet. 
Therefore, behind that six feet of space which 
finished the hall from this corner to the window, 
was, what? Why, the secret room, of course! 
Jim drew a plan to show his grandfather. 

“ That’s fine,” said his chum, looking over the 
other’s shoulder; “that’ll show him better than we 
can tell him, but now the question is, how are we 
going to get in ? ” 

“Well,” answered Jim, “I s’pose we might try 


OUTSIDE THE SECRET ROOM 137 


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1 38 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


the closets first. No, I’ll tell you what, let’s go up 
on the roof and see if we can get down the 
chimney.” 

“ Cricky, I know I couldn’t. I’m too fat.” 

“ I’ll try, anyway,” and Jim hurried to one of 
the hall closets in which a ladder led to a trapdoor. 
This was fastened with rusty bolts and bars and a 
padlock, all of which soon gave way beneath the 
noisy onslaughts of the hammer wielded by Jim’s 
vigorous right arm. In a few minutes the boys 
climbed out on the steely gray slates of the almost 
flat roof. The hot, round disk of the sun shone 
down on then 5 ! out of a burning sky and the hoary, 
old trees on the mountain stood lifeless and somber 
in the parched air. Nature seemed full of menace 
and had the boys not been so intent on their quest 
they might have noticed and wondered at the un- 
usual aspect of their surroundings. But never a 
thought did they give to Nature or her moods that 
morning. Running lightly over the already warm 
roof in their bare feet, they reached the chimney at 
the end of the house. Here, Skip leaned over, al- 
lowing Jim to get on his shoulders and climb to the 
top of the chimney. He shaded his eyes and peered 
down into the flue. Then he slipped back to the 
roof again. 

“ No use,” he said. “ The chimney looks big 
enough from the outside, but it’s divided into three 
flues; one for each floor. I’m afraid I’m too big 
to get down. I know I’m thin enough for almost 


OUTSIDE THE SECRET ROOM 139 

anything, but the flue to the secret room is the small- 
est of the three, and it wouldn’t be much fun to get 
caught half way down and not be able to move either 
way — and not know what I might fall into if I did 
manage to slip down.” 

“ No, of course that wouldn’t be fun,” agreed 
Skip. “ But there’s a fireplace down there, so that’s 
another proof.” 

“ Yep,” said Jim, thoughtfully, dropping to his 
knees and looking over the front edge of the roof. 
“ The room’s there, all right. But ’twon’t do us 
much good if we can’t find the way in, will it? ” 

He leaned forward as far as he dared, and Skip 
with one arm around a corner of the chimney, held 
on to the other’s overalls, while Jim considered the 
possibility of letting himself down on a rope and 
trying to open the blinds from the outside. When 
he wriggled back to his chum that boy felt greatly 
relieved. It wasn’t much fun to act the part of life 
saver to so daring an investigator. 

“ Nothing doing there, either,” said Jim. “ The 
cornice goes out so far from the wall that I couldn’t 
swing close enough to the window to open it. Be- 
sides, the blinds are fastened on the inside. And 
I could never pry ’em open while swinging on a 
rope. And we mustn’t use a ladder from the 
ground ’cause we don’t want any one else to know. 
No, siree, we’ve got to find a way from inside the 
house.” 

“ Well, come on, then,” said Skip. “ Let’s go 


i 4 o THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


to work right away again.” He would not feel 
quite safe from accidents till Jim was once more 
down the ladder. 

When they were back in the carpenter’s shop, the 
first thing they did was to examine the closets. 
Two of these they had already opened. It did not 
take them long to make a careful examination of 
walls, ceiling, floor and shelves. Indeed, so thor- 
oughly did they overhaul the dusty and cobwebby 
contents of these dark corners that when they finally 
stopped to rest before opening the third, and still 
locked door, they had to laugh at the disheveled 
appearance of each other. 

“ My, but you’re dusty,” said Jim, “ and you just 
ought to see your face.” 

“ I don’t hanker to, much, if it’s half so dirty 
as yours,” laughed Skip, happily. “ Cricky, but I’m 
having a good time all right, ain’t you, Jim? And 
I feel so excited now for I bet a doughnut the door 
to that room’ll be through the closet. Don’t you 
think so, too? ” 

“ Yep, I do, for it certainly isn’t anywhere else. 
Here’re the keys we didn’t try the other day. This 
one seems to fit, but it sticks so I can’t turn it. 
Here, I’ll tell you what, Skip. You go down to 
the shed and bring up some oil in a cup and the big 
feather that’s there. A few drops of kerosene’ll fix 
the lock all right, and while you are gone I’ll fasten 
the trapdoor to the roof. I forgot it just now and 
a wind might rattle it or blow it off its hinges.” 

“ All right.” Skip started, then turned to nod 


OUTSIDE THE SECRET ROOM 141 


his head when Jim added, “ And bring back a snack 
of something to eat from the pantry/’ 

In a few minutes the two were swinging their feet 
as they sat together on the long carpenter’s bench, 
alternately biting into a cookie and a big, red apple, 
left over from the year before. 

“ Feel better?” questioned Skip. “ I do, and 
what do you think? Pa’s down there with your 
grandfather and Ellen’s packing a bag in the kitchen. 
It’s Sam’s, I think. Anyway, he’s shaving and his 
boots are all blacked.” 

Jim looked at him in amazement. “ Shaving,” 
he repeated. “ Why, to-day ain’t Sunday.” 

“ I know it, but something’s doing down there, 
all right. Perhaps Sam’s going away.” 

“ I wonder if they want me.” Jim hastily swal- 
lowed the last of his apple and jumped off the bench. 

“ Oh, Jim, don’t go down now,” cried his chum. 
“If they want you, they’ll yell and they never said 
a word to me about needing you. Don’t go till 
we’ve gotten in the closet anyway.” 

While Skip was thus speaking he dipped the big 
turkey feather in the cup of oil and whisked it 
around in the lock on the door. Then he put the 
old key as far down in the cup as it would go and 
when it was well covered with oil, hastily inserted 
it in the lock. This time, when they tried it, the 
key turned and the opening, creaking door soon al- 
lowed them to enter what they found to be a deep 
clothespress. On the shelves were laid away, in 
neat folds, old and faded women’s garments, many 


142 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


of them of rich brocade, trimmed with yellow lace 
or elaborate silken fringe. Homespun linen sheets 
covered them. From the wall and ceiling hung 
men’s broadcloth suits, army uniforms, beaver hats 
and many ancient and curious articles of dress or 
ornament. Canes, muskets, and an old blunderbus 
were stacked in one corner. A cedar chest, beneath 
the lowest shelf, seemed to the boys, when they 
lifted the cover, to be filled with gold buckles, chains, 
rings and miniatures. 

“ Wouldn’t the girls just love to dress up in these 
things ? ” said Skip, as he reluctantly let the cover 
fall. A faint odor from the dried wood came to 
their noses when the metal -bound corners jarred 
into place. 

“ Yes,” Jim replied, now quite forgetting his de- 
sire to go downstairs. “ We’ll ask grandpa if they 
can and then we’ll all rig up and show the campers. 
I’d like to see how I look in this uniform. See, 
here’s the cocked hat that goes with it, too, and the 
heavy boots and — ” 

“ I guess I’ll choose this,” laughed Skip, and he 
dragged from a shelf a tremendous hoop skirt and 
with it a poke bonnet. This had a string attached 
to the front edge by which it could be pulled well 
over the face. “ Here, help me into these, will you ? 
Then I’ll put on a — ” 

“ Not now,” interrupted Jim, sneezing in the 
dust-filled atmosphere. “ Put ’em back till I ask 
grandpa. He might not like it, if we didn’t. 
Here, boost me up, I want to knock on the wall back 


OUTSIDE THE SECRET ROOM 143 


of the top shelf. That’s the only square foot we 
haven’t punched, though I don’t believe there’d be 
an entrance way up there, and there isn’t,” he added 
after a minute, when he finally left the closet and 
stood in undecided attitude in the center of the 
room. “ Skip, wherever do you s’pose the door to 
the secret room is ? ” 

“ Don’t know,” came the happy answer. “ Don’t 
care much, either. There’s enough fun right here 
in this room to keep me busy for weeks.” 

“ But think of the one thousand dollars reward.” 

“ Well, ’less you cut a hole through the wall I 
don’t see how you’re ever going to get in there.” 

“ I don’t either,” dejectedly answered Jim, “ and 
yet I hate to give up and do that. There is a reg- 
ular way in and I don’t want to be beaten at finding 
it. How’d the old counterfeiters get in, anyway? ” 

Both boys laughed and before Skip could answer, 
Ellen’s voice came up to them from the foot of the 
winding stair. 

“Skip! Jim! Boys, come down,” she called. 
“Your turn to take the milk up to camp, Skip; 
you’re pretty late, too, and your grandfather wants 
you, Jim.” 

“ All right,” they answered, hastily finishing the 
last of the apple and doughnut, and as they started 
for the first floor Jim added, “ I wonder if he’s going 
to tell me about my father now. You know I 
haven’t seen grandpa since I showed him the locket 
last night.” 

“ Cricky, that’s just what it is, I bet you any- 


i 4 4 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


thing,” Skip replied. “ And I shouldn’t wonder but 
what he’s sending Sam off to find him.” 

“ I’ve thought of that, too, but I just guess he 
shan’t go. If any one does that, I’m the one.” 

“ Oh, Jim, d’you think you can make your grand- 
father let you? I don’t.” 

“ You just wait and see if I can’t,” said Jim, his 
eyes shining brighter than ever in his excitement. 
“ Hurry up to the camp and come back’s soon as 
you can and I’ll be out by that time, I guess, and’ll 
have something to tell you.” 

“ All right. But I hope you can finish about the 
secret room before you go away; that is, if you are 
going,” Skip added. 

He started on his errand; Jim smiled back at him ; 
then, taking a long breath, entered his grandfather’s 
room, prepared, if need be, for what he feared might 
be an unhappy interview. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE QUARREL 

4<npHAT you, Jim? ” Mr. Burton, propped up 
A in an old, black- walnut chair, a stick of 
wood wedged beneath the rockers to keep it steady, 
peered at the boy from under bristling white eye- 
brows with so penetrating a glance that the boy’s 
brave attitude of a moment ago suddenly left him. 
He gazed at the old man in astonishment. Never 
before had Jim seen his grandfather look so master- 
ful, and that was saying a good deal for no other 
man in the township was so accustomed to rule as 
was Mr. Burton. And with the memory of last 
night’s pathetic interview still so vivid this contrast 
was all the greater. The hawk-like nose, the keen 
eyes, the gaunt, sinewy hands, all showed energy 
and determination. The white sick look they had 
then did not seem to mean anything now, and the 
meek and helpless attitude of the invalid had en- 
tirely disappeared. 

So Jim hadn’t a word to say and quietly slid into 
the chair indicated by his grandfather. This was 
on the other side of the small table which hid from 
sight the only indication of the accident. 

“ I want you to sit there,” began Mr. Burton, “ so 

H5 


146 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

you won’t see my legs. I want you to forget my 
present helplessness. Only present, mind you, for 
I’m going to walk; just you wait and see if I don’t. 
I would now, only it ain’t — ain’t just convenient 
to-day.” He added these words in grim jest while 
impatiently drawing the faded quilt still closer 
around him. “ And I want you to sit there for an- 
other reason, Jim. Look at these.” He lifted a 
big handkerchief from the center of the table and 
disclosed to view several papers, legal-looking docu- 
ments, some tied with red tape and almost all of 
them looking quite old and faded, as though they 
had been for some time in the dark. “ Look ’em 
over, Jim, and tell me if you understand ’em. Do 
you ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, I think I do,” answered the boy. 
“ This is a will, isn’t it ? ” He pointed to the new- 
est looking paper which lay folded on top of the 
others. 

“ Right you are,” said his grandfather. “ I’ve 
just made it. The doctor, who has just gone, wit- 
nessed it, and Ellen, too. You see you and Skip 
are not the only ones who have been busy in the 
house this morning, hot as ’tis. D’you ever know 
such heat? And not a promise of change, either. 
Well, and what’s this paper?” Slipping the one 
they had just spoken of to one side the old man took 
up a second pamphlet and whisked it back and forth 
in his fingers. “ You couldn’t guess in a month of 
Sundays, Jim, so I might’s well tell you that this 


THE QUARREL 


147 


is a deed to this property — the deed that made this 
farm mine. Then this one is my life insurance 
paper; t’other one’s the family record of our births, 
marriages, deaths, and so forth. And this one is 
about you.” 

“Me, grandpa ? ” 

“ Yes, read it.” 

With a bewildered air and nervous fingers, Jim 
unfolded the stiff, crinkly paper and tried hard to 
understand what all the legal phrases and red em- 
bossed names meant. In a moment he looked up 
and said laughingly: 

“ I’d rather you told me, grandpa ; I’m sure I 
don’t understand it at all. What does it mean, any- 
way ? What is it all about ? ” 

“ It means that you are the owner of the pine 
plantation and the ravine, Jim.” 

“ Owner, but why? ” 

“ I have given ’em to you and that paper’s the 
deed to say so.” 

“ But why, grandpa ? ” 

“ Because I calculate you kinder deserve some 
thanks for all the trouble you’ve taken for me ever 
since I’ve been lying here, so helpless and so 
cranky.” 

“ Oh, grandpa, don’t say that,” Jim interrupted, 
blushing very deeply ; “ I haven’t done one bit more’n 
I ought to have done.” 

“ But you did it and I want to show I’m grateful. 
And so long as I haven’t any money to buy you a 


148 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

present, I thought you might like to own the pines 
and the ravine as well as any other part of the 
farm.” 

“ Like the pines ! Why, grandpa, you know I 
just love ’em, and as for the glen — ” 

“ Well, they’re yours now.” 

“ But why not put it in your will, so long as you 
have made it? All the farm is my home, isn’t it? 
What are you dividing it up for now, grandpa? ” 

“ All the farm was your home until this morning, 
Jim. But since then it has shrunk considerable.” 
And Mr. Burton swallowed as though something 
hurt his throat. “ I’ve sold to those high falutin’ 
college fellers who think they know it all, pretty 
much everything we are accustomed to call ‘ home.’ 
They can now carry out all their silly farming no- 
tions to their hearts’ content from one year’s end 
to another. I might have mortgaged the farm, but 
I don’t believe in that kind of a transaction ; never 
did. So the land that they’ve been renting, they 
own, and I have got the money; and all the home 
you’ve got now is the garden patch, the house, the 
ravine, and the pines. About twenty acres instead 
of a hundred and twenty, and of that twenty only 
about one that’ll amount to anything to raise vege- 
tables on. We’ll have to buy the fodder for the 
team and cow from Mr. Jones.” 

“ Gee whizz, what d’you do that for, grandpa? ” 
“I needed the money — enough money to find 
my son with, Jim. And Mr. Lyford, as you know, 
has been pestering me ever since they first came up 


THE QUARREL 


149 


here to sell. I don’t know as I should have done 
it if it hadn’t been for what you gave me last night. 
Since then, I can tell you, I have done some pretty 
tall thinking — thinking about your father.” 

“ Here ! ” with an affectionate gesture, he gathered 
up the remaining papers and looked them over as 
he continued, “ these envelopes hold all his letters 
to me — very few you see they are, Jim, and worth 
nothing to any one except to me, but to me they 
mean more than all the rest of the papers put to- 
gether, for by them only do I expect to trace your 
father, and my son — my only boy. If I should 
die, these letters would be the only thing you’d have 
to tell you about your father, Jim. So do you won- 
der that I am so particular to see that they are al- 
ways kept under lock and key? This bundle is 
what I have always kept locked up in that big drawer 
in the writing-desk. Sam’s only got copies of ’em 
for I wouldn’t even trust the originals to him.” 

As he spoke, Mr. Burton swept all the papers to- 
gether and snapped a rubber band around them. 
“ There,” he said to Jim, handing the packet to him, 
“ put ’em back in the desk in the kitchen and then 
I’ll tell you what we’ll do, you and I, while Sam’s 
away. I s’pose I can’t be thankful enough that I 
fell out of the old oak, if that was the only way I 
was ever to find the locket and chain, though even 
so, it seems to me that I’m paying pretty dear for 
my past mistakes.” 

“ While Sam’s away,” breathlessly repeated Jim, 
as he hurried back to his grandfather, and handed 


150 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

him the desk key which Mr. Burton always wore 
on his watch chain. “ What’s Sam going away 
for? And where’s he going, grandpa?” 

“ He’s going around the world, if necessary. 
Jim, he’s going to find your father and bring him 
back to you — to me — to us.” 

“ But I’m going to do that.” 

“ You?” 

“ Yes, grandpa, I’ve always expected to do that.” 

“ You have, eh? Well, you’ve never told me so. 
This is news I hadn’t calculated on.” A smile hov- 
ered around the corners of Mr. Burton’s mouth and 
wrinkled up his eyes in a way Jim had learned long 
ago to dread. He was now so excited, however, 
he forgot to be afraid of his grandfather, and the 
thought that he would not be allowed to do what 
he had always wanted and planned to do was almost 
too hard to bear. Yet he tried to keep his temper 
till the old man’s superior manner taxed his self- 
control beyond the breaking point. It seemed to 
Jim that he was being treated unfairly, taken little 
thought of ; and he did not realize that, never having 
spoken to his grandfather on the subject, the older 
man naturally would not know how he felt. Now 
he tried hard to explain but his grandfather either 
would not, or did not, understand, till, at last, Jim 
quite forgot all about his grandfather’s weak con- 
dition and that he was talking to a much older man. 
So he spoke rapidly, his words almost running into 
one another in his excitement and his desire to tell 
just what was in his heart and mind. This was 


THE QUARREL 


151 

something he had never done before and his grand- 
father, too surprised to say a word, looked at him 
in amazement. 

“ Yes, sir,” Jim continued, “ I’ve always meant to 
go and find my father and if I haven’t told you, 
whose fault is it? Not mine, but yours, for you’ve 
never let me speak to you about him nor how I felt, 
so how could I ? But I’ve got a right to go. He’s 
my father, not Sam’s, and I’m going, too, and you 
can’t stop me.” 

How far’ll you go, Jim?” coolly asked his 
grandfather. “ To the station? Yes, for you can 
ride on one of my horses. But after that, how far’ll 
you get without any money? ” 

“ I’ll take what you got from selling the land, 
with which you’re going to send Sam.” 

“ You will, will you? Who’s going to give it to 
you ? ” 

“ You will, grandpa.” 

“ I? ” 

“ Yes, you, grandpa. You have no right to — ” 

“ Jim, be silent ! ” now thundered his grandfather. 
“ You don’t know beans. If you did you’d have 
enough sense to realize that you, a fourteen-year- 
old boy would stand mighty little chance of success, 
if once you got as far as Albany, which I very much 
doubt you’d do. You’d lose your money, if not your 
head, before you got to the railroad station. It’ll 
be nip and tuck with Sam, even, crippled as he is 
with rheumatism, to find his way around and to keep 
clear of swindlers and pickpockets; but he’s got 


152 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


sense to go in when it rains and you don’t seem to 
be overburdened with that commodity and — ■” 

“ Well, if I ain’t, whose fault is it, I’d like to 
know? ” shrilly interrupted Jim. “ You’ve brought 
me up.” 

“Jim, be silent.” 

“ I won’t, either,” the boy defiantly replied ; “ you 
can’t make me now, and I’m just going to tell you 
what I think of you and then I’ll run away as my 
father did. Perhaps you bossed him so much he 
had to, too. You have had your own way all your 
life and never let any one dispute you and you’ve 
been high-handed with any one who ever said a 
word you didn’t like. I heard the men say so the 
other night down at the post-office, and now mebbe 
you’re getting just what you deserve. They said 
that, too. And that you’re sotter’n a meeting- 
house. And I guess they’re right. I’ve always 
wanted to talk to you about my father and you’ve 
never let me and I’ve always been afraid of you. 
I’ve wanted to like you and tell you things and 
you’ve never let me come anywhere near you. And 
you’ve never let me have any friends here to stay, 
nor opened the house, nor anything. You’ve al- 
ways been thinking about the past and never about 
making me happy nor letting me be company for 
you.” Here Jim choked a little but catching his 
breath continued, “ So I’ve grown up to be a lone- 
some boy, ’cause I couldn’t tell other people the 
things I wanted to tell you ; and I got into the habit 
of thinking about my father and I’ve planned every 


THE QUARREL 


153 


day since I can remember about going to find him. 
And now if the time has come for some one to go 
and there’s money to go with and you won’t let me 
be the one, I’ll never forgive you as long as I live.” 

At last, out of breath and shaking with fear and 
rage and bitterness, the boy stopped speaking. He 
stood, his hands clenched, resting on the table which 
moved beneath his nervous, twitching fingers, and 
gazed with fixed eyes into his grandfather’s face, 
upturned in speechless amazement to his. 

The man reached out his long, thin arms and 
grasped the boy by the shoulders, forcing him to 
come around the corner of the table in front of him. 
Still without speaking he kept his hold. In a mo- 
ment Jim was on the floor at his grandfather’s feet, 
his head buried in his arms as they were flung on 
the old quilt on the man’s lap. Suddenly Jim felt 
tired — more tired than he had ever felt before in 
his life, and so he just rested there and waited for 
his grandfather to speak. He felt as though 
nothing would matter again, as though for him the 
end of the world had come. And he didn’t much 
care, either. He had spoken his mind and told his 
grandfather just what he thought. But were all 
those thoughts his own? They sounded so queer, 
some way, when spoken. He really did believe that 
he thought just that way, but after all, what did it 
matter? What did anything matter? And why 
didn’t his grandfather say something? 

Minutes, to Jim they seemed an eternity, passed in 
silence. Mr. Burton did not speak but his grasp 


154 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

on Jim’s shoulders relaxed, and after the boy had 
thought very hard for a long time, he wriggled away 
and stood up, whispering the words that were so 
very hard to utter. 

“ I beg your pardon, grandpa, for what I said.” 

“ I think you’d better, Jim,” dryly replied the 
other. “ Have you anything more you’d like to 
say?” 

“Yes, sir, I have — I — ” and yet he hesitated. 

“ Well, out with it, then. We might as well clear 
everything up and start fresh, eh? What is it? 
I’m prepared for anything now, ’pears to me. I 
guess nothing else you can say’ll surprise me more’n 
what you’ve said already.” 

The old man leaned back in his chair and closed 
his eyes. A curious expression flitted over his 
strong, white face; an expression Jim had never seen 
before and did not understand now, but he was still 
so full of his own troubles he paid little attention 
to his grandfather; he began hurriedly to speak 
again as though he scarcely had time enough to tell 
all he wished. 

“I do mean it, sir, when I beg your pardon,” he 
said, “ for I s’pose I was disrespectful. But I guess 
I meant every word I said.” 

“ Then if you meant ’em, why beg my pardon for 
’em ? ” asked his grandfather with grim humor, 
opening his heavy eyelids and gazing at the boy for 
one brief moment. 

“ Because,” Jim continued, “ I ought not to have 
lost my temper. I ought to have said what I did 


THE QUARREL 155 

more politely, I s’pose, so I do beg your pardon for 
my manner but not for the words.” 

“ That’s honest, at all events, Jim. I grant it 
freely, for I can’t abide hypocrisy. And now, go 
on! What next? This is getting quite interest- 
ing.” With an amused, cynical laugh, that hurt the 
boy to hear it, Mr. Burton straightened up in his 
chair and looked at his grandson. 

Jim tried to keep his angry tears back as he an- 
swered : “ I’ve almost found the secret room. I 
think Skip and I may get in there this afternoon and 
then I’ll get the reward, won’t I?” 

“ You certainly will, if you can place any reliance 
in the word of the United States Government, and 
I guess you can — and Job Greenough doesn’t come 
to light in the meantime to get it first.” 

“ And you’ll let me have the thousand dollars ? ” 

“ I will.” 

“ Well, then, I’ll take my share, for Skip’s in on 
this thing with me, too — and he’ll have to have 
$500 — and use my part to find my father with.” 

“ You’ve made up your mind, Jim? ” 

“Yes, grandpa.” 

“To go and leave me alone?” 

Jim choked again. “ Ellen’ll stay with you,” he 
said. “And perhaps Sam’ll be back by that time, 
for it’ll take several days to hear from Washington, 
and maybe the President’ll have to know about it.” 

“ Maybe,” repeated his grandfather. “ Yes, I 
shouldn’t wonder but what he’d have to,” he 
laughed. “ But will you now drive Sam to the 


156 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

station ? He’s ready and waiting and I guess you’ll 
have to hurry in order to catch the train. I’ll be 
obliged if you’ll step in here when you get back and 
tell me if he got off all right. You know his rheu- 
matism makes him kind of clumsy.” 

“ Course I will, grandpa. And can I go, too, 
afterward? Can I have that money?” 

“ Why, you just said you were going to, anyway, 
didn’t you? No, don’t answer now, Jim; but come 
right in here after you get back and we’ll finish this 
highly exciting and interesting conversation and 
settle the affairs of the universe as well as our own. 
You may be sure you have given me plenty of food 
for thought while you are away. Go now, for 
there’s Sam at the front door. He’s driven around 
from the barn, and you must allow plenty of time 
on account of the heat.” 

When his grandfather talked in such a cynical, 
superior manner, there was no use in trying to say 
another word so Jim turned away in silence. As 
he stepped into the old-fashioned buggy and took 
the reins from Sam’s willing fingers, the only thing 
he could think of was that the cherished hopes of 
his whole life had amounted to nothing. Sam was 
going to do what he had always longed and hoped 
to do himself. His heart ached with bitterness and 
disappointment and hot tears blinded his eyes. 
How could he stand it? In a few minutes they 
passed Skip, who, tired of waiting for his friend, 
was trudging along the dusty road toward home and 
dinner. Then Jim remembered the secret room and 


THE QUARREL 


157 


the reward. They were to continue their search 
again that afternoon. This thought made him feel 
a little better and he began to plan just what they 
would do when next they went upstairs. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE BIG WIND 

/^\N the station platform a surprise waited for 
Jim. The invalid’s wheeled chair had come. 
Dr. Brown had been better than his word. His 
telegram had had good results and there was the 
comfortable-looking chair, well wrapped in burlap, 
waiting to be carried home. It was aggravating to 
Jim that he could not manage it in the buggy, but 
the camp wagon was at the station with some of the 
college boys, and as they willingly agreed to bring 
it up with them, Jim started on the homeward drive 
with far happier thoughts than he had when coming 
down. He forgot all about Sam, who was being 
whirled away to the big, unknown city, though that 
faithful friend was carrying with him all the hopes 
and fears of many long years. Instead of thinking 
about the traveler, Jim pictured to himself his grand- 
father’s pleased surprise when he should see the 
chair. Then he began to be troubled afresh about 
the bitter outburst of temper of which he had been 
guilty. He realized he ought to have known better 
than to have spoken that way to an old man — and 
a sick one at that. His face slowly flushed with 
shame. How could he ever make up to his grand- 

158 


THE BIG WIND 159 

BBT sy*&kia <",L ,X s. ^ ,UJ f J..4 Jia. 1 - -..iT ^ . .£3 ^%^ Eaj 

father for having acted the way he did? For 
though he couldn’t take back the words, he had 
meant them and they had already been spoken, he 
ought to have uttered them in such a way they 
would not have hurt so; and he knew they must 
have hurt his grandfather’s feelings, because his 
own heart thumped so very much harder than usual 
as he thought about the recent unhappy scene. 

“ Oh, hum,” he said, half aloud, as he hurried the 
mare along a little faster when he heard the noon 
whistle blow, “ I don’t see how I ever could have 
said what I did. I wonder how I ever dared ! I’m 
almost afraid to see him again. I wonder what he’ll 
say to me, anyway. I ought to have known better 
than to speak the way I did, for, in spite of the way 
he acted he’s all the family I’ve got, next to my 
father. Golly! What’d my father say if he knew 
what I’d done ? ” 

As Jim turned this question over and over in his 
mind his regret and shame deepened so it was a 
very uncomfortable boy, who, after putting the mare 
in the barn, at last turned toward the house. He 
dreaded the coming interview and wished it were 
over. Determined, however, to be polite in the 
future, no matter what his grandfather might do or 
say, Jim drew a long breath and quietly stepped into 
the room. His grandfather’s greeting was a peevish 
one. 

“ Seems to me you must have driven faster’ n 
usual for such a hot day, Jim. How long’ll it be, 
I wonder, before you learn moderation? You’re 


i6o THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


home earlier’n I expected you. Weren’t careless, 
were you? ” 

“ I don’t think so, grandpa,” answered the boy. 

“ Well, I hope the mare’ll be none the worse for 
it. Rubbed her down well, did you ? Better let her 
rest a bit before you feed her. Don’t see how I’m 
ever going to manage while Sam’s away, with no- 
body to look out for things, and me about as much 
use as a dead door-nail.” 

Jim laughed in spite of himself as he wondered 
just how dead a door-nail could be. He did not 
feel hurt at his grandfather’s remark, unkind as it 
was. So he said good-naturedly: 

“ I’ll do the best I can, grandpa, just you tell me 
what you want done and I guess I can manage 
’thout Sam all right. I hope I have been of some 
use on this farm before to-day. What’ll I do 
now ? ” 

“ My dinner ready yet?” 

“ Ellen said she was going to dish it up in a few 
minutes. It smelled pretty good as I came through 
the kitchen.” 

“ Well, I never did see minutes so long in all my 
born days as those Ellen talks about. I shall be glad 
when the time comes that we can get along without 
any women folks again. Gosh all hemlock, how 
’tarnation mad I am just sitting here and doing 
nothing! ” He pounded the arms of his chair with 
clenched fists and glowered at Jim. 

The boy thought of the surprise, even then being- 
brought nearer and nearer to the farm, and smiled. 


THE BIG WIND 


161 


How glad he would be to give his grandfather such 
happiness as that chair could bring. He thought 
of pushing it out to the bridge that evening when the 
sun would be down and the air would be a little 
cooler, and wondered if he could not get up to the 
camp, when the impatient tones of the invalid’s voice 
recalled his wandering thoughts. 

“ Quit your dreaming, Jim. Try and be prac- 
tical a moment, won’t you? What you thinking 
about, anyway? The secret room, eh?” 

“ No, sir, I wasn’t,” said Jim. “ But, oh, grand- 
pa, just let me tell you what we found out about it 
this morning — ” 

“Not now,” interrupted Mr. Burton, “ by and by. 
Here comes Ellen at last with something to eat and 
I should think it was about time. Seems to me this 
is the longest day in the year and it isn’t half over 
with yet.” 

“ I hope Skip and I didn’t wake you up this morn- 
ing, grandpa; we tried to be as quiet as we could,” 
said Jim. He helped Ellen place the tray with its 
appetizing dinner on the table in front of the old 
man who looked up with a short laugh. 

“ D’you suppose I sleep like an elephant or a 
pig?” he asked. “Of course I heard you; but 
there, never mind. I’ve got to grin and bear things 
from now on, I s’pose. Oh, to think of always liv- 
ing in the same room! To live, eat, sleep right 
here ! ” 

“We can easily get you into another part of the 
house, Mr. Burton,” pleasantly answered Ellen, as 


1 62 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


she patted the pillows back of his head and spread 
out his napkin; “ if you’d only let us draw your 
chair — ” 

“ Over this hard wood floor ? ” interrupted Mr. 
Burton, impatiently. “Well, I guess not! I guess 
I didn’t help to lay this solid oak floor down so’s to 
have it scraped up by dragging heavy weights over 
it. No, here I stay, like a helpless log of wood till 
I can walk out on my two legs. And if that time 
never comes, why — Well, go and get your dinner 
now, Jim, and then come right back for I want you 
to go up to the camp and pay Dr. Brown the rest 
of his bill. He’s spending the day with Mr. Lyford 
and you know how I hate to owe any one a cent.” 

Yes, Jim did know the deep-seated aversion Mr. 
Burton had to unpaid bills, so as soon as he had 
eaten he went back to get the money and then go 
up to the camp. He found his grandfather more 
impatient than ever, for, having given Sam all the 
loose change he had with him, he now discovered 
that he needed more money than he had in the house 
in order to discharge this rather trifling debt. 

“ Let it go till to-morrow, grandpa,” suggested 
Jim, not realizing the storm of protest which would 
follow. 

“Let it go! ” cried Mr. Burton, “ I’d like to see 
myself. I told him I’d pay it to-day, and so I shall. 
I don’t owe a cent to any one in the world and don’t 
intend to, neither. I couldn’t sleep to-night with 
that bill unpaid, particularly as I’ve told the doctor 
I’d send you up with the money this afternoon.” 


THE BIG WIND 


163 


“ But, grandpa, he only left it this morning. I 
don’t believe he expected you to pay it right away.” 

a Don’t care what he expected ! I only know I’m 
going to pay that bill.” 

“ Well, then, let me ride Judge down to the bank 
for some money. He hasn’t been out to-day and 
I don’t think it’s too hot.” 

“ Yes, ’tis. No, you shan’t go. I’ll have to bor- 
row from you, much as I hate to. Lend me five 
dollars of your money, will you? Then you can 
go to the bank as soon as it’s cooler — to-morrow, 
I hope — and deposit the check from the college as 
well as get me some cash to have on hand.” 

Jim hesitated. He did not want to tell his grand- 
father about the chair before it came and yet how 
else could he explain the fact that his money was 
gone? His confusion was noticed by his grand- 
father who said in a surprised way: 

“ Don’t you want to lend me that money, Jim? ” 
“Yes, sir, I’d like to lend it to you all right; 
indeed I would, grandpa, only — only won’t you 
just wait till to-morrow morning? ” 

Instead of looking at Mr. Burton, the boy invol- 
untarily gazed out of the window to see if he might 
not catch a glimpse of the longed-for chair. If only 
it were to come now! His grandfather saw that 
he did not look at him and at once thought there 
was something evasive in Jim’s manner. So he 
said, shortly: 

“ No, I won’t wait, Jim, that bill’s going to be 
paid to-day. Never knew you to be so backward, 


1 64 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

either, about obliging me. You afraid you won’t 
get it back ? ” 

“ Oh, grandpa, you know better’n that.” 

“ Well, then, go and get it.” 

“ Grandpa, I haven’t got it.” 

“ Haven’t got it? What do you mean, Jim? ” 

“ I’ve spent it.” 

“What! All of it? The whole ten dollars and 
sixty cents ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, and the money I’ve earned at the camp, 
too, these last three weeks.” 

“ Might I ask for what? ” 

“Please wait till to-morrow, grandpa — till this 
evening, then. I’ll tell you just as soon as the 
camp wagon comes back from the station. Oh — ” 
Here Jim clapped his hand over his mouth in great 
confusion. Surely he had said too much ! His 
grandfather would guess, had done so already! 
But that was not so. The sick old man, made irri- 
table by an early awakening, the excitement attend- 
ing Sam’s unwonted departure for the far-off city, 
and the extreme and nerve-trying heat, noticed only 
one thing. The money had been spent. Jim’s 
actions had made it impossible for him to pay that 
bill. The fact that he only owed a small amount 
and that to an old friend made no difference. Jim 
had made it impossible for him to have his own 
way. He completely lost his temper and scolded 
the boy in a very unnecessary and unkind way. Jim 
stood quite white and still in the doorway and never 
said a word. He clenched his hands and bit his 


THE BIG WIND 


165 

lips in order to keep the hurt and angry tears back. 
He kept saying to himself, “ Father wouldn’t want 
me to. I mustn’t.” So he conquered his great 
desire to answer back. He wanted to justify him- 
self but he was so afraid that if he spoke at all he, 
too, would lose his temper again, that he was glad 
and thankful he could keep silent. 

Suddenly his grandfather stopped talking and 
began to laugh. “ Guess that makes us about even, 
now, doesn’t it, Jim? You had your innings 
in the morning; I have mine in the afternoon.” 
He laughed again, but it was not good to hear him. 
“ Well,” he continued, “ the money’s yours. You 
spent it. I don’t want to know how, but you’ve 
got to go to the village and get some from the bank, 
for that bill’s got to be paid to-night, and you’ve 
got to walk, too. I ain’t a-going to let any horse 
out in such weather as this. And the walk’ll per- 
haps teach you how necessary it is to save your 
money. I suppose you’ve spent your pennies and 
your dollars in all kinds of foolishness down at the 
store. Or did you give it to Sam ? ” 

“ No, sir, I—” 

“ Well, I don’t want to know how you spent it,” 
interrupted his grandfather. “ It’s gone, that’s 
enough. And now you walk to the bank and cash 
this check for me.” 

Hastily scrawling the amount wanted in his check 
book he handed the slip of paper to Jim who took 
it without a word and, turning, groped his way from 
the room and through the long hall to the kitchen. 


1 66 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


He stumbled down the steps and falling into the 
nearest chair buried his head in his arms as he threw 
them out on the table. He felt ever so much worse 
than he had felt in the morning. Now he was sure 
he w^s so unhappy and lonely he wanted to die. 
And then he thought how he had tried and suc- 
ceeded in keeping his temper. He was comforted 
by that knowledge and it almost made the thought 
of walking to the village bearable. He knew he 
must start at once in order to get there before the 
bank closed. It was now almost two o’clock and the 
bank closed in an hour, and the village was three 
miles away. With a sigh he rose and crossed the 
kitchen to the porch. Under the eaves was a ther- 
mometer which, though now in the shade, registered 
nearly ninety-eight degrees. Jim gave a long, low 
whistle. 

“And I’m to walk three miles there, three back 
in this heat,” he murmured. “ I bet I won’t do it. 
I’d like to see myself. I’ll go to the camp and 
borrow a bicycle.” Then he remembered his grand- 
father’s dislike, even horror, of borrowing, and, too, 
he might get it out of order and if he did he now 
had no money with which to have it fixed. While 
he teetered back and forth on the top step of the 
porch, uncertain just what to do, the wagon from 
the camp came rattling up to the door. Jim stepped 
forward to unload the chair. 

“What kind of weather do you call this?” 
laughingly asked one of the men, wiping his fore- 


THE BIG WIND 167 

head with a hot, dusty hand. “ I never knew any- 
thing like it.” 

“ Does beat all, don’t it? ” agreed Jim. “ I never 
knew such hot weather in these parts before. But 
it can’t last forever.” 

“ Well, that’s one comfort. You’d better drive 
the cow up to the camp to-night, however, before 
you milk her, or the milk’ll sour before you can get 
it to us.” 

Jim laughed and as they drove off, slowly fol- 
lowed the wagon out to the road. He had decided 
to walk to the village. His life-long training would 
not permit him to disobey his grandfather. He 
could not borrow a wheel, nor ride the horse. The 
fear of overheating himself was not strong enough 
to make him run the risk of injuring one of the 
horses. Ailing live stock was a very serious matter 
to any one whose livelihood depended upon the 
strength and condition of their horses. So poor 
Jim saw no other way open before him save a long 
and dusty six-mile walk in the middle of a hot 
July day, in order to satisfy the whim of a selfish 
old man. 

He swallowed hard, tied his shoestrings into good, 
tight knots and stepped manfully forward. At the 
comer of the house, beneath the windows of his 
grandfather’s room, he stopped suddenly and looked 
up at the sky. It was such a funny color. So 
bright and clear yet full of a strange light and there 
was such a deep shadow on the bridge and on the 


1 68 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


mountain road that Jim wondered if a terrible storm 
was coming up. Almost immediately the cause of 
this queer light showed itself. A big, blanket- 
shaped cloud, twisting and curling down the moun- 
tainside, appeared directly over the camp. Its edges 
looked like green and yellow snakes trying to get 
out of the middle of a dark brown blanket. Jim 
gazed in fascinated silence at the unusual sight. 
Then a hot, dry wind which came tearing down the 
ravine back of him surged against him with such 
force he almost lost his balance. He gave a little 
gasp and darted out into the road for his hat which 
had blown off and which he could not catch. It 
went careening over the opposite meadows and was 
soon out of sight. But Jim no longer thought of 
his hat. The wind that blew it away met the wind 
that was blowing the cloud down the mountainside, 
and in a second the boy found himself flung vio- 
lently against the corner pillar of the piazza. Sud- 
denly it grew very dark. The air was filled with a 
queer, yellow light, and a low, moaning sound that 
came from the woods on the mountain soon changed 
into an angry roar as the wind, grown strong and 
terrible, swept over the brow of the mountain and 
blew down to meet and wrestle with the wind that, 
no less terrible, was tearing its destructive way 
through the glen. The two currents of air, heavily 
charged with electricity, met and fought for the 
mastery. Lightning darted in every direction. 
Chickens, small bushes, washing from the line, and 
chairs from the porch, everything movable, or so 


THE BIG WIND 


169 


it seemed to Jim, was borne on high by the rushing 
wind. It also turned and twisted him around, try- 
ing to dislodge him, but in vain. His position, so 
long as he stayed flat on the piazza floor with both 
arms around the post, was secure. But how long 
he could stay that way he did not know and he didn’t 
dare let go long enough to dash for the front door. 
Even as he thought of doing so he heard it slam 
noisily to and then his grandfather’s voice, for one 
brief instant, rose above the clamor and Ellen’s face 
appeared at one of the windows as she leaned out 
to shut the blinds. She did not see Jim and though 
he shouted to her he could not make her hear and 
a moment later she was at another window. She 
was securing the blinds all over the house and Jim 
was sorry he could not help. 

He wriggled around so he could look up on the 
mountain and what he saw at the camp filled him 
with terror. One after another the tents were be- 
began to blow down the mountain toward him that, 
in spite of his fear, Jim had to laugh. Books, table- 
cloths, camp-stools, a basket, a frying-pan, a sun- 
bonnet and a small, squalling kitten, all flew madly 
down the road, one after another, and joined the 
general havoc which had come from the direction 
ing blown down or were already prone on the 
ground, writhing about as though alive and in pain. 
The guy-ropes were snapping with a noise like the 
sharp crack of a pistol being discharged as fast as 
possible. The air seemed filled with all the camp 
paraphernalia. And in a second such funny things 


i jo THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


of the glen. The corner of the big, gray stone 
house and the dooryard, right at the mouth of the 
ravine, seemed to be in the center of the storm. 
Things would fly over the bridge toward the 
house, careen round in a complete circle in the door- 
yard and tear madly over the meadow to follow 
the course of the brook on its way to the village. 
Though Jim was on the edge of the wind it proved 
almost too strong for even his sturdy arms, but he 
managed to hold on even while he wondered how 
soon he’d have to give in and be tossed to and fro 
like the things he had already watched fly over the 
meadow. His eyes were blinded again and again 
by the flashes of blue and vicious lightning which 
played almost incessantly all around him, and he 
longed with all his might for the rain to come, for 
then the wind would go down and the terrible heat 
would be drowned out ; or so he thought. 

The rain did not come, however, and the heat 
grew ten times greater. And when, after a par- 
ticularly vivid flash of lightning, Jim opened his 
eyes he forgot his own danger and jumping to his 
feet, started to run to the camp. Little Gertrude, 
Mr. Lyford’s youngest child, was being blown di- 
rectly toward the bridge. Her short, white dress 
billowed out like a balloon, yet she might, even 
though helped in a measure by that fact, prove too 
heavy for the wind. She might fall in the pool 
and she could not swim. Jim knew he must get 
to the bridge in time to catch her. Yet running 
across the lawn was almost as though he were try- 


THE BIG WIND 


I7i 

ing to move a stone wall. The wind was still too 
strong for him. He was tossed about and then 
flung face down again on the ground. As he fell 
he saw the rest of the campers, half running, half 
flying, come blowing down the mountain toward 
him. A flash of white hovered for an instant over 
him. He made a frantic and successful effort to 
grasp it — whatever it was — from the wind’s vin- 
dictive grasp. As the tossed-about bundle fell heav- 
ily at his side, he cried with thankfulness, for there 
was little Gertrude, very much frightened but un- 
hurt. She twined her arms about Jim’s neck for 
a second but did not speak, and the boy, realizing 
that they were quite too near the black depths of 
the pool for safety, began as carefully as he could, 
with one protecting arm around Gertrude, to crawl 
back to the house. 

“Will the wind never stop?” he thought. “I 
shouldn’t wonder if this was the end of the world.” 

The two children, face downward in the middle 
of the hot, dusty road, dug their hands and feet 
into the earth for protection and held their breath. 
The fury of the dry, electrical storm suddenly in- 
creased to its climax. The wind whirled in fury 
over them. And then in a moment, IT came, the 
brilliant, the terrible flash of blinding light which 
blotted everything out of existence, as it followed 
what was afterward called “ The Big Wind,” which 
tore along in its mad career over the parched earth, 
leaving destruction and havoc behind. 

What had happened? 


CHAPTER XVI 


AFTERWARD 

A FTER many years, or so it seemed to Jim, he 
* ^ feebly opened his eyes. Surprised at finding 
himself still alive and in the world, which, after 
all, had not come to an end, he slowly drew himself 
together and sat up to look around. He was very 
thankful that the wind had stopped blowing. Then 
he quickly closed his eyes again and shivered, not 
from cold, for it was still close and hot — but be- 
cause he could not bear to look at the scene all 
around him. Fence rails were strewn about, the 
bridge was broken, the remains of the wood-shed 
and chicken-coops littered the dooryard way out to 
the road and here and there, stretched prone on the 
ground in many queer attitudes, were the people 
from the camp. The meaning of this picture, in 
one brief glance, impressed itself on Jim’s brain and 
made him open his eyes once more. Was every one 
dead? He caught his breath with fear and then 
glanced down at Gertrude and saw that she, at least, 
was alive. She looked up at him in a dazed way 
and tried to speak, but as her voice was very weak, 
Jim had to bend low to catch the whispered words: 
“ We were all struck by lightning.” 

172 


AFTERWARD 


173 


Of course! Struck by lightning! That was the 
reason Jim felt so trembly and all of a tingle way 
to the tips of his fingers and toes. Wondering why 
he had not thought of that before he made a great 
effort and, managing to scramble to his feet, helped 
Gertrude to the piazza; after which, with a shrink- 
ing dread at his heart that he might not find one 
of her family or friends alive, he turned around 
toward them. To his unspeakable relief he saw 
that they, too, had only been stunned. With dazed, 
uncertain gestures, as though awakening from a 
deep, long sleep, the college men and members of 
Mr. Lyford’ s family were slowly regaining their 
senses. Jim ran first to one and then another and 
gave them what help he could. In a few minutes 
they were all on the piazza. Mrs. Lyford sat back 
in a low rocking chair and took little Gertrude on 
her lap. The others settled themselves comfortably 
in different ways and each tried hard to regain his 
or her self-control, At last Dr. Brown said in a 
voice that trembled with emotion, though he tried 
to speak as naturally as he could : 

“ It’s getting cooler.” 

“ That’s so,” answered Mr. Lyford, and when 
his wife said : 

“ Thank God for that and that we are all still 
here,” her husband leaned forward and kissed her, 
and then the tension was broken and every one 
found that life was to go on in the same old way 
after all. 

“ Guess I’d better find out if grandpa’s all right,” 


174 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


said Jim, and he started toward the front door just 
as Ellen opened it. 

“ We’re safe,” she cried, in answer to his un- 
spoken question, and when she found that no one 
outdoors had suffered anything more serious than 
a great feeling of numbness which had not yet en- 
tirely passed off, she added : “ Well, there, I guess 

I’ll go make some good, strong coffee for all hands. 
I guess we need it now, if we ever did. You want 
to come help, Mis’ Lyford? And, Jim, your 
grandpa must want to look at you. S’pose you jest 
step in an’ let him see you’re still in the land of the 
living.” 

“ All right,” answered Jim, but before he had 
crossed the threshold a loud hallo from down the 
road caught his ear and he saw Mr. Jones astride 
one of his horses, with Skip clinging on behind, 
come galloping along toward them as fast as the 
big roan could cover the ground. Jim turned with 
the others to meet them. “ What is it ? ” he cried. 

The horse stopped, Mr. Jones called out, “ Your 
house’s afire,” and Skip, slipping off to the piazza, 
yelled : 

“ The lightning must have struck it ! Gee whizz, 
hurry up and come on ! ” 

When the two boys, in advance of the others, 
ran around to the kitchen it was to see a broad 
sheet of flame bursting from the roof of the exten- 
sion, while curling wreaths of smoke were pouring 
out of the low windows beneath the eaves. The 
wheel chair, still done up in burlap, stood under the 


AFTERWARD 


175 


big maple, and the first thing Jim did was to drag 
it to a safe place where there was no danger of it 
catching fire. 

Then he joined the others who were trying 
bravely, but in vain, to save the low, frame exten- 
sion which for many years had nestled, as though 
for protection, to the side of the old, stone house. 
When they saw that the fire was waging an unequal 
war against them, they turned their energy to the 
barn and those outbuildings the wind had spared. 
Ellen had succeeded in closing all the windows and 
blinds in the rear so, though it would probably be 
scorched, the house was in no danger of being de- 
stroyed. This was not true of the frame buildings, 
however, which as a result of almost a month of 
rainless and hot weather, were -as dry as tinder. 
Once they caught fire, it would be impossible to 
save them. So horse blankets, drenched in the 
brook, and buckets of water were almost hurled 
from one willing hand to another, in the effort to 
protect the dry, shingled roofs from the flying 
sparks. The horses and cows were easily led from 
the barn and turned loose in the rocky pasture. The 
pigs and what poultry had not been blown away 
were also shooed up toward the ravine and then — 
suddenly, Jim thought of those papers in his grand- 
father’s desk. They also must be saved. He must 
get them, and at once. He could not wait to run 
around to the front of the house and get the key 
from his grandfather, and then, too, the old man 
might refuse to give it up; he might think the dan- 


176 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

ger too great. Jim thought of this in a flash and 
realized that he must get along without the key. 
He must manage in some way to bring the precious 
papers to his grandfather before Mr. Burton real- 
ized their predicament. He raced to the porch and 
looked in at the kitchen window. The fire had not 
yet burned through the ceiling. 

The room was more or less filled with smoke but 
as no flames were to be seen, Jim thought he could 
dash in, break open the desk, get the papers and 
be out again without breathing more than once or 
twice. He ran down to the brook for a stone with 
which to break open the desk. Those who would 
have stopped him were so busy fighting the fire in 
other places that no one noticed what he was doing. 
If they had, of course he would not have been al- 
lowed to do what he did. So he got his stone, 
and then laid down in the shallow bed of the brook 
and rolled over two or three times, thus completely 
saturating his clothes. 

As he hurried back to the kitchen he dripped 
water like a sieve and his shoes made a funny, suck- 
ing sound that reminded him of the way the pump 
acted sometimes in dry weather. He kicked the 
door open and ran to the desk. The lid was shat- 
tered with the first blow from the heavy stone which 
Jim dropped to the floor. The room was now so 
full of smoke that his eyes smarted and his breath 
came in short, quick gasps. It was not so easy to 
breathe as he had thought it would be. But before 
he turned to grope his way to the door, the precious 


AFTERWARD 


1 77 


papers were, every one of them, safely tucked within 
his flannel shirt; and then he couldn’t see his way 
out ! The now densely smoke-filled room was all 
of the same uniform gray ness, and the boy knew 
he would have to feel his way along the wall which 
made two angles, before he could reach the open 
door. He was afraid to trust himself out in the 
midst of that surging, billowing mass of smoke. So 
he closed his eyes and held one hand over his tightly 
buttoned up shirt and with the other sliding over 
the smooth wall stumbled forward. 

A little crackling sound was then heard, some- 
thing he had not noticed before. He involuntarily 
opened his eyes and saw that the draft he had made 
when he burst open the kitchen door had now not 
only blown the smoke up the back stairs, leaving 
the kitchen comparatively clear, but had fanned the 
flames above and encouraged them to come down 
through the ceiling. Jim could see them curling 
and darting back and forth, as they slowly ate their 
bright yellow way through the woodwork over the 
door. Then, even as he started to run across the 
floor from the far corner where he found himself, 
for he had been groping his way from, instead of 
toward, safety, the whole room suddenly burst into 
flames. Jim literally ran through the fire. He 
heard some one scream and wondered if it was he 
who was making such a noise and then, plunging 
through what seemed to be a thousand firecrackers 
and rockets all going off at the same time, he stum- 
bled across the threshold and for the second time 


178 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

that day fell face down on the earth ; and as he fell, 
he thought that, after all, what the lightning had 
spared the fire must have claimed. 

“ He’ll be all right in another hour or two, Mr. 
Burton; don’t you worry a mite more.” 

“You certain sure, doctor?” 

“ I certainly am. He inhaled very little smoke 
and the burns, though painful, are not at all serious. 
They are quite superficial. Just keep his face and 
hands well covered with the linen wet with the so- 
lution and by the time the pain has gone he’ll be 
rested enough to get up. To-morrow morning, I 
guess, at the usual time.” 

“ How thankful I am you were here, doc- 
tor.” 

“ So’m I. I’ve had more excitement in the last 
few hours than in all my professional career. And 
yet I’ve only had to give a few pills for nerves and 
to prescribe a lotion for this youngster’s burns. 
Hard on me, eh? ” 

Jim wondered who it was his grandfather and 
Dr. Brown were talking about, but as his eyes were 
covered with a cool, wet bandage, and he was too 
tired to ask he lay quite still, wondering, and so 
fell asleep. When he waked it was to find he had 
almost slept the clock around — or in other words, 
he had been asleep for over twenty hours. And 
even now, though wide awake, he felt too listless 
to move. He lay and blinked at the ceiling on 
which the afternoon sun was throwing fantastic 


AFTERWARD 


179 


shadows and then, idly wondering just why he 
should be in his grandfather’s bed and why every- 
thing was so quiet, he moved so as to look around 
the room. The first thing he saw was his grand- 
father sitting in the wheel chair. Though the old 
man’s eyes were closed he was not asleep, and as 
soon as he heard Jim stir he rolled the chair over 
to the bedside. 

Jim suddenly remembered everything that had 
happened. He was the boy his grandfather and 
the doctor had been talking about the evening be- 
fore. He raised his hands and saw that they were 
both bandaged. He felt his head and discovered 
that that, too, or the most of it, was covered with 
a wet compress. He tried to sit up, but by this 
time his grandfather had reached the bed and then 
something so queer, so unexpected happened, that 
Jim felt too embarrassed for several minutes to 
even think about getting up. His grandfather put 
his arms around him and gently drawing the boy’s 
funny-looking head to him, leaned down and kissed 
him. 

Jim scarcely knew what to do. Never since he 
could remember had his grandfather kissed him. 
He hadn’t any idea what it all meant but he liked 
it and managed somehow to get a bandage-cov- 
ered arm around the old, stooping shoulders. 

“ Never mind, grandpa,” he whispered, thinking 
that, after all, the papers had not been saved. 
“ Don’t feel so bad. Is it because the papers — my 
father’s letters, were burnt ? ” 


i8o THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


Mr. Burton could not speak. He only shook his 
head. Jim felt his big, trembling hand close ten- 
derly about his in the cool bandage. Then in a 
shaking voice the man said : 

“Jim, boy, the papers weren’t burnt — they 
weren’t even scorched. It’s because I’m sorry for 
my past mistakes that I feel as I do. Jim, I ask 
your pardon for not having been a better grand- 
father to you.” 

“ Oh, grandpa, don’t ! Please don’t say that ! ” 
interrupted Jim. “ If you only knew how awful 
mad I’ve been at you sometimes you wouldn’t feel 
that way.” 

“ Yes, I would, too,” stoutly affirmed his grand- 
father, “ for, in the first place, if I hadn’t acted like 
a mean, selfish man, too wrapped up in himself, like 
a gnarled, old nut, too hard to crack, you’d never 
had a chance to feel any other than the right way 
toward me. Everything’s been my fault. I see 
that now, and what’s more — I’m going to change 
from this time on. Jim, you’ve saved my soul 
alive.” Mr. Burton looked lovingly down into the 
puzzled face gazing up at him and the tears came 
to his fine, old eyes. “ I don’t believe you under- 
stand half of what I’ve been saying,” he added. 

“ Yes, I do,” answered Jim, with a little, nervous 
laugh, vainly trying to say the right word. Finally 
he whispered, “ You said just now, grandpa, that 
you were a gnarled, old nut, too hard to crack, didn’t 
you ? ” 

“ Yes, Jim, I did.” 


AFTERWARD 


181 


“Well, you ain’t; not one bit of it, because I’m 
the nut cracker ! ” 

“ Well, well, Jim, my boy,” then said his grand- 
father, as he tucked a pillow beneath the boy’s head, 
and laughed heartily at the way Jim had changed 
an embarrassing situation to a natural one. “ You 
do know a thing or two, don’t you? Well, now, 
feeling pretty comfortable, are you? Because we’re 
going to talk things all over and I don’t want you 
to get tired before we’re through. What is it? 
You want anything, Jim?” 

“ I’m awfully hungry, grandpa.” 

“ I declare to Goshen, of course you are and here 
I’ve been sitting, talking, full as a tick, while you’ve 
had to listen on an empty stomach, that’s been empty 
more’n twenty hours,” 

“ Well, it’s been asleep most of the time,” an- 
swered the boy, “ so it hasn’t minded till now.” 

“ Well, we’ll fill it up as soon as possible,” Mr. 
Burton answered — he rang the bell for Ellen — 
“ and while you’re eating I’ll do the talking.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


CONFIDENCES 

A FTER many awkward attempts to use his band- 
aged hands, Ellen finally had to butter his 
bread, cut his meat and pour out his milk for Jim. 
Then, when he declared himself quite comfortable 
and able to care for himself, she returned to her 
work in the kitchen and Mr. Burton began his story. 

“ You see, Jim/’ he said, “ I couldn’t get over my 
wife’s death. I brooded over it too much and 
by and by when he grew up your father found 
’twa’n’t any use to tell me things because I wasn’t 
sociable. First thing I knew I discovered my only 
child was a stranger to me. I was too proud to be 
friendly then, when I could. Afterward, when I 
would, ’twas too late. He went away to college, 
stayed four years, married one of his classmates and 
brought her home.” 

“ My mother,” whispered Jim. 

“ Yes, your mother, my boy, and the prettiest 
and sweetest young woman I’d ever wish to see. 
She tried as hard as she could to make us three a 
united and happy family but ’twa’n’t any use. And 
then when she died and I found I couldn’t comfort 
my son any, I realized how wrong it is to indulge 
182 


CONFIDENCES 


183 


your own feelings too- much. Never mind what 
happens to you in the future, Jim, don’t you ever 
make the mistake of thinking your sorrow’s the 
greatest and that you are the most important person 
on this earth — or you’ll be as wrong as I was. I 
see my mistake now — when too late. Well, we 
three lived on, after a fashion, you, your pa and me, 
and things came to such a pass that it only needed 
the loss of that locket and chain to make us two flare 
up. I accused him of carelessness in letting you 
wear it every day, he answered back and one word 
led to another till first thing I knew he’d gone.” 

“ But he wrote to you ? ” 

“ Yes, but wouldn’t come back. And I still let 
pride own me and wouldn’t ask him to come. I 
— oh, I can’t talk any more about that , Jim. Well, 
Sam and I talked the locket and chain all over night 
before last and I guess the old, tame crow was the 
rascal, without doubt, that did the mischief. And 
now Sam’s hunting for my boy — my son. If he 
doesn’t find him, if he’s too late, what shall I do? ” 

He looked down at Jim as though asking for 
advice and help. 

“ Don’t think about that part of it, grandpa,” 
interrupted Jim, “just bet that Sam’ll find him. 
We’ve just got to believe he will, you know, or 
we’ll — we’ll bust ! ” 

“ Well, we don’t want to do that, do we ? ” re- 
plied his grandfather, smilingly. “ And you know, 
my boy, no matter how much you wanted to go, this 
search for your father, it seems to me, now that 


1 84 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


I can’t go, rightly belongs to Sam. For he’s older, 
he’s insisted on taking some of his own money, 
because he was afraid mine wouldn’t be enough, and 
he’s less liable to be fooled by any shysters he’s 
likely to run across in the big cities. They say the 
woods are full of them down there. Don’t you 
think I’m right? ” Neither Jim or his grandfather 
thought it was funny that the cities might contain 
woods as well as “ shysters.” 

“ I s’pose — yes, you’re right, grandpa,” assented 
Jim, “ and I don’t feel nearly so bad about not 
going as I did at first — now that we’re friends.” 
As he whispered these last words, Jim’s face grew 
quite red, but he just had to say them and, when 
he saw what pleasure they gave his grandfather, 
was glad he had spoken. 

“Good for you, Jim; good for you. I’m proud 
to hear you say those words. We’ll certainly work 
together from this time on, and if Sam does come 
back alone we’ll be better able owing to this talk, 
to help each other bear it, than we otherwise would, 
won’t we?” 

“ Yes, grandpa, but I bet my father’s coming 
back, too. I just know he is.” 

“You almost make me believe that he is also,” 
said Mr. Burton, smiling at the other’s earnestness. 
“ Sam’ll find him if any one can. He’s slow of 
speech but shrewd and quick to think and seldom 
makes mistakes. I’d trust him sooner’n I trust any 
one else.” 

“ Where’s he going first ? ” 


CONFIDENCES 


185 


“ To your mother’s old home. Your father’s 
last letter came from there. And that was seven 
years ago.” 

“ Why, grandpa, haven’t you heard from him in 
all that time ? ” 

“ Not from him, Jim, but about him. The old 
minister who married your father and mother sent 
me word about him up to the time he died, which 
was four years ago. Then the hired girl, whose 
name was Laura Green, who lived in the parsonage 
and took care of the minister who was a bachelor, 
sent me some letters after his death. She said she’d 
keep on sending any word that came, just the same 
as her master had done, and so, for a time, she did. 
Then she moved away — to Kansas, I think, and 
since then all news from your father has stopped. 
I have written the postmaster and all sorts of peo- 
ple and no one can tell me a thing about her. She 
knew your father’s address and no one else did. 
And so, of course, till I can find her whereabouts, 
I can’t send for him to come home.” 

“ But when she sent you the letter, didn’t she 
send you the address ? ” 

“ No, she, or some one else, had carefully cut it 
off.” 

“ Why do you s’pose they did that ? ” 

“ I don’t know for sure, Jim, but I think it is be- 
cause your father said that unless I asked him to 
come home he’d never come or ever let me know 
where he was.” 

“ But I thought you said you did ask him.” 


1 86 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

“ I did, but not till after the minister died and 
then Laura Green, who was to have forwarded the 
letters, disappeared.” 

“ Well, grandpa, do you know what I think? I 
just bet she knows something that she’s afraid you’ll 
find out, and so has hidden from you.” 

“ That is exactly what Sam and I think, Jim. 
And Sam is going to ferret her out if it takes for- 
ever.” 

“ Well, I’m mighty glad of that,” replied the 
boy, “ for I just know my father wouldn’t desert 
us both this way. That hired girl is at the bottom 
of it. You just wait and see if she isn’t.” 

“ Of course there must be some reason for this 
long silence,” said the man, only too glad to agree 
with Jim ; “ and the evidence certainly does indi- 
cate that she’s guilty in some way for it. But I 
do reproach myself for not writing to him before 
the minister died. I didn’t know he’d die just then, 
though, did I? The last time he wrote to me he 
asked me not to wait till it should be too late. The 
old man seemed to have a premonition something 
was going to happen, said I might die before I 
could make up with my boy, who was at that time 
in Borneo. And then he was the one to be taken 
after all. Queer, how little we know what’s com- 
ing to us, isn’t it ? ” 

“ In Borneo,” sighed Jim. “ Oh, grandpa, what 
lots he’ll have to tell us.” 

“Yes; and the time before when I heard, he’d 
been way up to Sitka.” 


CONFIDENCES 


187 


“ What do you s’pose he was doing? ” 

“ It’s my impression he is some kind of a trader. 
But ’tain’t no use wishing and guessing; we must 
be patient as we can till we hear from Sam.” 

“ When’ll that be? ” 

“ Not for a whole week, and may be longer, 
for the minister lived in a little town in New Jersey 
and the hired girl out in Kansas — or the postmas- 
ter says she moved there. So Sam will probably 
have to go out there after her. He said he’d tele- 
graph me from there. And now that brings us 
down to yesterday. Do you know, Jim, if it hadn’t 
been for the weather’s being so hot, and Sam going 
away an’ all, I don’t believe I’d ever have been so 
cantankerous about your going to the bank.” 

“ Of course you wouldn’t, grandpa, I know that 
all right.” 

“ And so,” continued Mr. Burton, “ when that 
wind came up, with you out in it, I thought, well, 
I can’t tell you just what my thoughts were, Jim, 
but they were not pleasant ones. Well, Ellen flew 
around and closed the windows and shutters and 
I sat there helpless, so far away from the window 
that I couldn’t look out. But I did considerable 
hollering to find out how things were going on, 
and Ellen had no more’n told me you were all safe 
than I heard Mr. Jones ride up and Skip call out, 
‘ Fire.’ Then you all raced around the corner of 
the house and I was left alone for about a thousand 
years, I guess long enough at any rate to see my 
past life, and by the time I had made up my mind 


1 88 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


that I’d be burned up all alone and no one to care, 
they brought you in here.” 

“ Who did?” 

“ All creation, seems to me, and laid you on my 
bed. But the doctor got right to work and shooed 
most of them out. Then ’twa’n’t long before he 
told me you were all right.” 

“ Yes, I heard him say that,” interrupted Jim, 
“ only I was so tired I went right off to sleep just 
then so I don’t know what happened next.” 

“ Well, I’d no sooner got it through my head that 
you were not killed, after all, when Skip appeared 
with this.” Here Mr. Burton patted the arms of 
the new chair in an affectionate way that pleased 
Jim very much. “ He was so anxious for me to 
see it that he said he guessed you’d not mind if he 
didn’t wait till you could give it to me yourself.” 

“ That was all right,” assented Jim. 

“ When he told me who it was from and how 
you got it, you can bet your bottom dollar I felt 
pretty mean. I don’t suppose I’ll ever get over 
it. I — ” 

“ Oh, yes, you will,” then interrupted Jim, anx- 
ious to change the subject. “Then what hap- 
pened ? ” 

“ Well, after Dr. Brown had trussed you up like 
a fowl going to market, and you were so sound 
asleep I don’t believe an earthquake would have 
waked you, Skip managed to shift me into the chair 
and then trundled me out to the road and around 
the house to see what damage had been done.” 


CONFIDENCES 


189 


“ How much burned up, grandpa ? ” 

“ Well, you just wait and see for yourself to- 
morrow, Jim. I guess you may be some surprised. 
But the point I want to emphasize now is this : We 
are going to live in the house, not the extension, 
from this time on, and have a family.” 

“ What family, grandpa ? What do you mean ? ” 
“ I mean the campers. They have been busy all 
day collecting their various duds — I guess they 
were pretty well scattered from Dan to Beersheba — 
and getting settled in the upstairs bedrooms. I 
thought you’d very likely choose the room back of 
this for yours, so I kept it for you but told them 
to go ahead and do anything they wanted above 
stairs. Ellen and Mrs. Lyford have been pretty 
considerable busy, too, in the old kitchen and store- 
rooms, across the hall. And last night, while Skip 
wheeled me up and down the road for a spell, I 
had a good chance to see how kinder homelike the 
old house looked, all lighted up, with laughter and 
talking going on on the piazza. I guess this house 
is going to be a home from now on, for people , 
and not a casket to hold memories that only belong 
to one old man and can’t do him or any one else 
any good. Does that please you, my boy? Well, 
I thought it would. And I just want to tell you, 
too, that the Lyfords can’t talk about what you did 
for them, in grabbing hold of Gertrude, without 
pretty nigh crying.” 

“ ’Twa’n’t anything that any one else wouldn’t 
have done,” interrupted Jim, blushing. 


190 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

“ I don’t suppose it was,” continued Mr. Burton, 
“ but you happened to be the one, you see, and after 
all I guess ’twas a brave thing, Jim. They want 
to do something, anything, to show you how grate- 
ful they are to you.” 

“ Oh, grandpa, I wish you’d tell them not to say 
a word about it,” begged Jim. “ I’ll be so embar- 
rassed if they do I won’t know how to act.” 

“ All right, Jim,” laughed his grandfather, “ if 
that is the way you feel about it, I’ll see what I 
can do for you. And now I have finished my 
story; it has been a pretty long one, too, hasn’t it? 
Seems to me it’s your turn to talk awhile. D’you 
want to tell me what you and Skip did upstairs? 
When were you hunting for the secret room, any- 
way? Only yesterday morning? It seems as 
though it was last year, doesn’t it ? ” 

“ It certainly does,” replied the boy. “ And say, 
grandpa, I want to ask you something. Didn’t my 
father ever hunt for that secret room? He and 
Sam must have grown up the same way Skip and 
I have, and played and worked together. . Didn’t 
they ever try to find out anything? ” 

“If they did, ’twas unbeknownst to me.” Mr. 
Burton mused as he settled back more comfortably 
in his chair, “ and I don’t think they did. Sam 
was always a worker — he didn’t have time to poke 
around in other matters when his chores were done, 
and I’ve heard him tell since he grew up, that he’d 
never taken any stock in that reward, anyway. I 
guess your father felt much the same way, too, and 


CONFIDENCES 


191 

then you know he was away to college four winters, 
and soon lost what little interest he may have had 
in the house and anything pertaining to it. Well, 
what did you discover when you were up there? 
Anything ? ” 

Jim told his story in a very few words. He was 
gratified to notice that his grandfather seemed much 
impressed with the results of the measurements he 
and Skip had made. More than once before he 
finished, Mr. Burton nodded his head in pleased 
silence, but did not speak till he had listened to all 
that Jim had to say. Then he exclaimed: 

“Well, well, I want to know! It does seem’s 
though you were hot on the trail, doesn’t it? And 
perhaps after all, there’s more truth than fiction in 
the crazy counterfeiter’s story. Maybe it’s just as 
well for you to find the way into that secret room 
as soon as possible, so if Job Greenough does 
come around, you’ll get the reward first for finding 
the room and then for capturing him. Seems to me 
you’re just as likely to discover the one as capture 
the other. And though I’d hate to have you break 
a hole in the wall up there, I guess you’ll have to 
in order to get in that secret room. Of course it 
must be behind that wall space and those closets.” 

“ How d’you suppose those counterfeiters got in 
and out, though ? Let us hunt one more day, grand- 
pa, for I just hate not to find the right way in.” 

“All right, Jim, take as long as you like,” an- 
swered Mr. Burton. “ I don’t care. Only let me 
know in plenty of time to write to Washington.” 


192 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ I will, grandpa,” laughed Jim, “ and perhaps by 
tomorrow night there will be so much news that 
you will want to send a telegram instead of a let- 
ter.” 

“ Mebbe, young feller, but in the meantime you 
need all the rest you can get. So let me wet those 
bandages again, and then you turn over and go to 
sleep. Unless your hands heal up a lot during the 
night, I guess you’ll have to do the bossing and Skip 
most of the work. How do you suppose he’ll like 
that?” 





CHAPTER XVIII 


WHAT THE FIRE DID 

/ T A HE first thing Jim did in the morning was to 
A examine his hands and arms. He was de- 
lighted to find that the cooling lotion had done its 
work so well that the burns were almost healed. 
Then, forgetting the bandages that still encircled his 
head, he sprang out of bed, completely rested, and 
dressed as quickly as he could. As he opened the 
door into the hall, the old-fashioned clock, which 
some one had wound up, struck seven. It startled 
Jim a little, it sounded so strange, and yet it seemed 
so homelike and familiar, it pleased him immensely. 
“ My, but I’m glad,” he thought, “ that I’ll not 
have to live in that cooped-up little extension any 
more.” 

He crossed the hall and entered what used to be 
the office. Through the farther door he glanced 
into the big dining room which ran across the end 
of the house. From its cool and shady space came 
a subdued, happy sound of voices and laughter, and 
the cheerful clatter of dishes. The campers were 
having breakfast. Jim no sooner discovered them 
than they saw him and then ensued such a medley 
of cheers, exclamations and hand-clapping that Jim 
193 


194 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

found some difficulty in making his way to the place 
which had been reserved for him. His grandfather 
and Skip were there also, and though Jim never re- 
membered such a happy meal, it came to an end none 
too soon. Many times he and his chum exchanged 
glances with each other about their secret. They 
were anxious to be off to their work. Mr. Burton, 
in his wheel chair, was the first one to leave the 
table, and soon after all the campers were ready to 
go to the fields and the laboratory. This outbuild- 
ing, fortunately, had suffered but little from the 
storm. Gertrude and Helen fastened on big aprons 
over their pretty dresses and began to clear away 
the table. Ellen and Mrs. Lyford went to their 
work in the kitchen ; later to go upstairs and “ do ” 
the bedrooms. Already the house seemed lived in 
and homelike. Yet Jim and Skip nudged each 
other with delight as they whispered, “ Won’t the 
girls be surprised when they know ? ” and, “ Who 
would have s’posed a mystery belonged to this 
house? ” 

“ It doesn’t look any different from any other 
home now, does it ? ” said Skip, “ except that it’s 
ever so much nicer.” 

They wheeled Mr. Burton out to the hall toward 
the back door. Jim said he wanted to see how 
much damage had been done by both wind and fire. 
He supposed they might have to put a new roof on 
the kitchen. When Skip heard this he giggled and 
looked at Mr. Burton, who winked back at him, and 
then Skip flung the door wide open. Jim gave one 


WHAT THE FIRE DID 


195 


startled glance, blinked hard as though he could not 
believe what his eyes told his brain, and then took a 
little step forward and stood alone on the threshold. 
For several minutes after that he didn’t say a word. 
His grandfather and his chum gazed at him in won- 
derment, but Jim seemed to forget they were there. 
He was looking with all his might across the rocky 
meadow, to and through the widespreading en- 
trance of the ravine. Before he had gone to bed 
he could not have done this. He would have only 
seen the interior of the old familiar kitchen. Now, 
however, there was no kitchen, neither was the 
wood-shed there, nor the chicken-coops, the pigpen, 
nor the horse barn. The wind first, and then the 
fire had made havoc with the old gray buildings. 

At last Jim turned and smiled down into his 
grandfather’s face. “ Isn’t it perfectly fine?” he 
cried. “ All that view ! Say, grandpa, let’s have 
this for the front door, won’t you? Let’s build a 
piazza out here. I can see almost up to the water- 
fall. If there was only enough water coming over, 
I bet we could see it sparkle through the trees now. 
Ain’t this the greatest view ever ? ” 

“ Well, well, Jim, you are certainly the funniest 
boy I ever saw,” laughed his grandfather. “ Here 
I’ve been bothering more’n a good deal about your 
feeling bad over the loss of the extension, and this 
is the way you take it. Do you realize that about 
everything you owned — clothes, books and all — 
has gone up in smoke ? ” 

“ I never thought of that, grandpa, I only thought 


t 9 6 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

of the view and the trees up in the glen. How fine 
it is to see them so near, isn’t it? Never mind my 
clothes, it’s warm weather now. You know how I 
love to go barefoot, and I guess I can earn a winter 
suit before the fall comes.” Thus did the light- 
hearted boy dispose of the clothes question. “ See,” 
he continued, “ there’s the big chestnut that Skip 
and I want to build a house in. Do you s’pose we 
can do it, soon? How near it looks now, doesn’t 
it? And if you lean forward this way a little bit, 
you can see the rocks where we were going to help 
the girls make a fort. We were going to send mes- 
sages back and forth on a trolley line, from there 
to their wild rose island. 

“ Just you look at the ground, first, Jim,” said 
the more practical Skip; “ seems to me there’s some 
work to be tended to, first, right at our feet. Don’t 
you think so ? ” 

“ Yes, I s’pose there is,” answered Jim, glancing 
in rather a shamefaced way at the still smoking 
ruins which lay beneath them. “ All this must be 
cleaned up, of course.” 

“ It certainly must, Jim,” laughed his grandfather, 
“ if you want to have a piazza built here. I think 
that’s a very good idea of yours, too.” 

“ Then we can do it ? ” 

“ Yes, if you do not mind the hard work it will 
mean.” 

“ Oh, that won’t hurt us any,” delightedly an- 
swered Jim. “ Let’s begin right away. Skip’ll 
help, won’t you, Skip? And, grandpa, won’t it be 


WHAT THE FIRE DID 


197 


perfectly fine if we can get it all done by the time 
Sam and — my — father — come home ? ” Jim 
still stammered a little when he spoke of his father 
to Mr. Burton. He had for so long a time withheld 
his confidences, that it did not yet come easily to him, 
to speak openly to his grandfather. Each time he 
did, however, made the next time easier. 

“But what about the secret room, ‘Jim?” S aid 
Mr. Burton. “ Will you let that go? ” 

“ Yes, for a few days longer, grandpa. You 
don’t care, do you, Skip? ” 

“ I don’t care what happens,” giggled Skip, “ so 
long’s I can be here and help in whatever you do.” 

“Well, then, boys, I have a suggestion to make,” 
said Mr. Burton. “ Suppose you wheel me around 
to the shade under the maple. I’m thankful the 
fire spared that at any rate; and while you look 
the ruins over, and decide where to begin to clear 
up, I’ll take pencil and paper and figure out just 
what amount of lumber we’ll need for the piazza, 
roof, steps and all. Then the first time any one 
goes to the village, it can be ordered, and Mr. Jones 
can begin with the stone piers as soon as you clear 
up enough space for him to dig the holes.” 

“ All right,” agreed Jim, “ let’s get right around 
there now.” In a few moments the two boys were 
busily following out Mr. Burton’s directions. He 
would glance up from his figuring occasionally and 
advise them how to proceed with their work, and 
by the time his calculations were finished, — the boys 
had measured off the distances for him that he 


198 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

might compute the needed amount of material, — 
they had a very fair idea of how much work was 
before them, and the time it would take to clear 
away the necessary space for the required piazza. 
The rest of the cleaning up could be done more 
leisurely. 

At last they threw themselves at the foot of Mr. 
Burton’s chair to rest. “ I tell you what,” ex- 
claimed Jim, “ let’s drag everything over to the 
cold cellar that was underneath the pantry, and 
dump all the timber, beams and everything that’ll 
still burn in together, pour some kerosene in, light 
it and then, when it won’t burn a bit more, fill up 
the hole with rocks and earth, and tamp it down 
hard. We won’t need a cellar there any more.” 

“ We might do that, I s’pose,” replied Mr. Burton. 
“Yes, that’s a sensible plan. Perhaps Mr. Lyford 
and some of the others will help. You must be 
very careful not to hurt your hands, you know, 
Jim. How are they this morning? ” 

“ All right, grandpa. See ! ” And Jim held 
them up for inspection. “ And I guess my head 
can get along without the bandage, too. Can’t it? 
I forgot it was on. Take it off, Skip, will you? ” 

“ Certainly, anything to oblige,” gleefully an- 
swered Skip. “Your head, I s’pose you mean?” 

“ No, not this time,” solemnly answered Jim, 
“ just the bandage.” 

When it was removed, the red marks left by the 
fire were found to be no more serious than those on 
the hands. Mr. Burton realized again how much 


WHAT THE FIRE DID 


199 


he had to be thankful for, and as he glanced at his 
grandson, Skip, as though reading what was pass- 
ing through the man’s heart, said : 

“ Don’t you worry about Jim, Mr. Burton. I’ll 
see that he doesn’t hurt his hands any. I’ll do all 
the hauling and everything like that to-day. I’ll 
take care of him.” 

“Wish you would, Skip; wish you would,” an- 
swered Mr. Burton. “ You’ll have to keep a close 
watch on him, too, or there’s no knowing what he’ll 
do — climb a tree and forget to come down, may- 
be.” 

“ Or keep on climbing and fall off,” added Skip, 
laughing at his chum, who was leaning against his 
grandfather’s knee and looking toward the ravine 
with eager eyes. 

“ I’m just crazy to get up there,” he said in an- 
swer to Skip’s friendly nudge, and paying no atten- 
tion to his remark, “ and into the secret room, too. 
My, we’ve got lots to do, but this work comes first, 
I s’pose; so, grandpa,” turning around to Mr. Bur- 
ton, “ what’ll we do next ? What’ll hurry us along 
the fastest ? ” 

“ Picks, shovels and rakes,” was the laconic an- 
swer. “ Skip, suppose you catch one of the horses 
and ride down to borrow what your father can 
lend us in the way of tools. Ours were burned. 
In the meantime Jim can wheel me back to the front 
piazza, I can write my orders to the carpenter better 
there, and I should think by to-night, if you can 
get some one to help with the heaviest work, we can 


200 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


start your bonfire in the old cellar. Who would 
have thought we would be having another fire in 
this neighborhood so soon! Then to-morrow Mr. 
Jones can begin on the piers for the piazza, and you 
can have the day clear for the secret room.” 

“ Goody ! I hope so,” cried Jim, “ though I think 
this is good fun, all right; but that! Hurry up, 
Skip; go and get Judge. He’s the fastest horse. 
You don’t mind waiting a minute, do you, grand- 
pa?” he added, “and I’ll help Skip. Judge knows 
me better and I shouldn’t wonder if it took both 
of us to catch him now. I guess he’s having too 
good a time out there in the meadow to come with- 
out a chase.” 

“ Say, Jim,” asked Skip, as the two friends went 
up to the meadow bars together, “ what in the 
world has come over your grandfather? He’s just 
as nice as he can be. Why, he’s like a different 
man.” 

“ And he is a different man,” answered Jim. 
“ Just listen while I tell you what happened last 
night ! ” In a few graphic sentences, Jim related 
enough of his intimate talk with his grandfather 
to let Skip realize the happy changed relations be- 
tween them, and Skip was as delighted as Jim knew 
he would be. 

“ I call that just bully of him,” said Skip, when 
his friend had finished, “ to tell you everything the 
way he did. It is awfully exciting about your 
father, of course, but even without that, having your 
grandfather so nice must make you feel first rate.” 


WHAT THE FIRE DID 


201 


“Well, I just guess it does,” replied the other. 
“ Now, come on, we mustn’t let Judge run by us this 
time.” 

The morning passed so busily that before the boys 
realized it, noon arrived, and with it, the call to din- 
ner. Afterward many friends and neighbors drove 
up — for news of the fire had spread — to sit awhile 
and talk over the exciting event. Strange as it was, 
the terrific wind and electric storm was purely local. 
It spent itself on Mr. Burton’s property alone. It 
did comparatively little harm elsewhere. Though 
the temperature fell a few degrees after it had 
passed, no rain had fallen in its wake, and the 
farmers and villagers condoled with one another, as 
well as with Mr. Burton, on the probable loss of 
crops, unless rain were to come soon. They also 
asked many interested and curious questions about 
the experimental work of Mr. Lyford, and were 
inclined to joke him a good deal. In return he 
good-naturedly asked them only to give him time, 
and to come back next year when they could all see 
the successful results of this summer’s work. Sam’s 
unexplained departure and Mr. Burton’s changed 
manner to one and all, were slyly commented on 
more than once before the visitors left. And Jim, 
made to tell his story over and over again, thought 
the time would never come when he would be free 
to join Skip in his fascinating work at the rear of 
the house. Finally, however, he politely held the 
last visitor’s horse while the owner got into the 


202 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


buggy, took up the “ slack ” of the reins and started 
to drive away. Then Jim turned around and ran 
as fast as he could toward Skip who came equally 
as fast from the opposite direction, full of excite- 
ment. 

“ Oh, Jim,” he cried, “ the most wonderful thing! 
What do you think has happened? What do you 
suppose Eve discovered?” 


CHAPTER XIX 


SKIP’S DISCOVERY 

DON’T know; what? Oh, what is it?” 
cried Jim, hurrying on by the side of his 

friend. 

Skip, without replying, scrambled over some still 
smoldering timbers and charred walls to a spot 
where, in the counterfeiter’s day, the wood-shed 
used to be. Since that time it had been turned into 
part of the kitchen. Here he stopped and pointed 
to the ground. “Just look at that,” he said. 

Jim glanced in the direction indicated and then 
cried out, “Oh, Skip, bully for you! You’ve — ” 

“ Hush-sh-sh, somebody’s coming,” whispered 
Skip. “ Pretend you’re only telling me what to do. 
Cricky, but I hope they don’t stay ! ” But they did. 

Mr. Lyford arrived first, pushing Mr. Burton in 
the wheel chair. Then came Mr. Jones, walking 
beside his friend, busily interested in talking over 
the project of the new piazza. Directly behind 
them were the girls, on their way to spend the after- 
noon in the glen. Last of all came the entire force 
of the camp, most of the men armed with pick, ax 
or rake, and all intent on helping the boys. Poor, 
impatient Jim and Skip! They could only look at 
203 


204 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


each other in anxious dismay and, while accepting 
the help so kindly offered, managed to keep the others 
away from the corner of the old kitchen which, so 
unexpectedly, had become of the utmost importance 
to them. In spite of their fears, however, nothing 
was discovered. And the boys had to acknowledge 
that without the help of Mr. Lyford and his men, 
the work would have soon become tiresome and ex- 
tremely difficult. More than once a heavy timber 
had to be pried from the ground, or a bit of teeter- 
ing wall gently knocked down. Pick-ax and crow- 
bar had to be carefully wielded and the work was so 
interesting and exciting that the girls stayed to 
watch, and soon were very busy carrying to the old- 
new home the half-burned treasures and household 
effects the boys dug out of the ruins. At last four 
o’clock came. Mr. Jones, having decided that he 
could begin on the piazza piers next morning, went 
off to get his materials, Mr. Lyford and some of 
the campers also left that they might make ready 
the ground to receive a consignment of imported 
trees which were to arrive on the next train. The 
rest of the men drove down to the station to get 
them and took the girls. That left Mr. Burton and 
the boys alone. The former, leaning back in his 
chair, had quietly fallen asleep. Jim looked at him, 
with a smile, and then nodded to Skip. They care- 
fully made their way to the spot about which they 
had been thinking all the afternoon, and were about 
to toss aside some half-burned panels of wood when 
Mr. Burton waked up and called to Jim. 


SKIP’S DISCOVERY 


205 


The boy stifled an impatient exclamation and 
managed to answer good-naturedly, “ Yes, grand- 
pa?” 

“If you’ll take me to my room,” the man an- 
swered, “ I guess I can get a nap before supper. 
Out here these pesky flies bother me so I can’t sleep 
a wink.” 

“ All right ! ” And the boy obediently clambered 
back to the big maple. 

“ And if I were you,” his grandfather continued, 
while Jim carefully wheeled him around to the front 
of the house and got Ellen to help him lift the chair 
up the steps, “ I wouldn’t work any more this after- 
noon. Take it easy now. Have the bonfire to- 
night and then do a little each day till things are all 
shipshape once more. You know you’ve got all 
the farm work to do now that Sam’s away ; that is, 
what there’s left, since we’ve sold out, as you might 
say; and I’ll have to get you to help me plan the 
new buildings for the live stock, too. You know 
we’ve got to get them under cover before cold 
weather comes.” 

“ And, grandpa,” answered Jim, “ there’s one 
thing we want to remember, and that is to put the 
buildings up so’s they won’t hide the view of the 
glen from the new piazza.” 

“ That’s right, my boy. We must manage some- 
how to be all front and no back, mustn’t we ? How 
do you s’pose we’ll do that, eh? Well, we needn’t 
worry ’bout that yet awhile, need we? Seems to 
me there’s plenty other things that must be tended 


206 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


to first. I told Mr. Lyford I guessed you couldn’t 
work for him any more, now that so much had to be 
done right in our own dooryard. And you must 
go easy or you’ll be all tuckered out before you know 
it.” 

“ That’s so, grandpa, I guess you’re right, and 
I do feel kind o’ tired, now, so I’ll get Skip to go 
up in the ravine with me till supper time.” 

“ You don’t expect to catch any trout, do you, 
with the brook so low?” laughed his grandfather; 
“ but it’s cooler up there at any rate.” 

When Jim got back, Skip was as busy as could 
be and laughed at the idea of the ravine. “ We’ve 
bigger fish than brook trout to catch to-day, haven’t 
we?” he asked. “Just see here!” 

The boys dropped to their feet in the cleared space 
Skip had made to peer at a hitherto unknown, nar- 
row staircase which led downward from the floor 
of the old wood-shed. This flooring, which had 
been left undisturbed when the boards of the kitchen 
extension were laid down, had kept its secret all 
these years. What was it now to reveal to these 
two excited boys? 

“ Just to think,” exclaimed Jim, as he helped Skip 
to enlarge the opening at the head of the newly dis- 
covered staircase, “ that I’ve walked around and 
over this spot every day of my life and never knew 
what was beneath me.” 

“ Well, you don’t now,” laughed Skip. “ There! 
Everything’s cleared away. Shall we go down ? ” 


SKIP’S DISCOVERY 


207 


The stairs were very narrow and steep, moldy 
and half-rotted away. The boys hesitated about 
trying them. Several times they made an attempt 
and each time drew back. It seemed a dangerous 
thing to do. Were the stairs burned further down 
where they could not see? Where did they lead? 
What was below? 

Jim trembled in his excitement. “ Of course I’m 
going down,” he finally cried; “ we’ll never find out 
anything here, just standing still and talking. Stop 
it, Skip! What are you doing? Take your hands 
off me,” he cried, for his chum had laid hold of his 
coat with a strong, detaining grasp. 

“ You just don’t go down there, that’s all,” he 
said. “ I promised your grandfather I’d take care 
of you and so I will.” 

“ Well, I like that,” angrily answered Jim. 
“ Any one’d think I was about six years old.” 

“ Now don’t get mad,” placidly answered Skip. 
“ Just think of your hands. You couldn’t take a 
step down there without grabbing hold of some- 
thing to steady yourself by and the skin would all 
come off.” 

“ I s’pose it would,” sighed Jim, ruefully gazing 
at his still scarred fingers. “ Well, then, you go 
down, will you ? And tell me where the stairs lead 
to.” 

“ Cricky,” cried Skip. “ Well, here goes.” And, 
carefully balancing himself with both hands against 
the dark and damp underground walls, he slowly, 


208 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


step by step, descended the narrow and steep stairs 
to the mysterious depths below. Jim crouched 
above and waited. 

Several minutes passed. Then Skip reappeared 
at the foot of the stairs and called: 

“ Come on down, Jim; it’s all right, nothing ’cept 
a square hole in the ground.” 

“ Must be more’n that,” answered Jim, as he fol- 
lowed his friend, “ or you wouldn’t shout so. Do 
be quiet. D’you want to let every one know what 
we’ve discovered ? And now, what is it, anyway ? ” 

By this time he was standing on a rickety floor 
of moldy boards and, with his arm across Skip’s 
shoulders, was peering into the dim corners of what 
appeared to be an old cellar. Perhaps ten feet 
square, it contained nothing except a few apparently 
empty barrels which stood in one comer. 

“ Oh, shucks,” then disgustedly said Jim, “ I don’t 
see what you’re so excited about. I s’ pose the old 
counterfeiter stored his apples and potatoes here so 
as to have them near the house in cold weather. 
And if grandpa had only noticed things more when 
he built the extension, he’d have discovered the way 
down here.” 

“ But look a’ here!” The reason for Skip’s ex- 
citement now showed itself. Reaching down in the 
depths of one of the big barrels, he lifted up a half- 
filled bag of sacking. He shook it a little. Some- 
thing inside jingled. “Here,” said Skip, handing 
the moldy, musty bag to Jim, “ put your hand in 
and see what you get.” 


SKIP’S DISCOVERY 


209 


Jim silently followed the other’s directions and 
then stepped to the little patch of light that filtered 
down from the opening above the stairs that he 
might the better see what he held. After a second 
of silent surprise he cried, “ Money, money, Skip! 
Just see here,” and frantically rubbing two of the 
coins together and then polishing them off with his 
flannel shirt, he knew that at last he had found what 
the United States detectives had failed to discover 
— the hiding place for the counterfeit money. 
“ Oh, Skip! ” he cried. 

“ Gee whizz ! ” exclaimed the other boy. “ D’you 
s’pose ’tis? I thought so, too, but couldn’t believe 
my eyes when I saw ’em. That’s why I didn’t let 
on when I called you. Oh, do you really s’pose 
’tis?” 

“ Of course I do,” tremblingly answered Jim, 
“ and what’s more, I bet you dollars to doughnuts 
old man Crooker was down here, or somewhere 
mighty near, that day the dep’ty sheriffs came, ’cause 
it’s only a step from the top of these stairs to where 
the old cow shed used to be. I bet he was down 
here, counting over his money, and when he heard 
the pistols go off, he shied up there as quick as he 
could. And the wood pile must have been fixed so 
as to hide the stairs. And say, when the crazy 
counterfeiter tried to pry up the floor of the harness 
room the other day p’rhaps he thought it’d lead 
down here. He may have known about this place 
and got sort o’ mixed up.” 

“ Well,” commented Skip, “ that may all be, but 


2io THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


what I don’t see is, why was the secret room, if there 
is one up on the third floor of the house, so far from 
this underground cellar? For if they made the 
money up there and stored it down here, they’d have 
to carry it through the house and — ” 

“No, they wouldn’t! No, they wouldn’t!” in- 
terrupted Jim. “I know now what they did! 
There’s a secret passage as well as a secret room.” 

“ Ah, go on,” sneered Skip. 

“ Yes, there is,” insisted Jim, “ between that 
secret room and this cellar, and what’s more, we’ve 
got to find it ! ” 

The boy’s assurance was so contagious that Skip 
in spite of himself exclaimed : “ Jim, I bet you’re 
right ! ” 

“Right? Of course I’m right,” confidently an- 
swered Jim. “ But, my, ain’t you kind o’ trembly? 
I feel awfully wobbly in my legs. Let’s sit down 
on the steps for a while and see what this money 
looks like.” 

The boys emptied the bag at their feet and as 
though by mutual consent began to polish the coins 
which they picked up at random from the little pile 
in front of them. For several minutes they kept 
hard at this work, which, fascinating at first, soon 
grew tiresome. At last they stopped and Jim said 
with a laugh : 

“ Here we are as hard at work as though our lives 
depended upon it, and the money’s no good, anyway. 
Come on, let’s leave it.” 

“ Well, what’ll we do next? ” asked Skip. “ For 


SKIP’S DISCOVERY 


21 1 


it’s beginning to get dark and what we do we’ll have 
to do in a hurry.” 

“ I’ll tell you what,” answered Jim; “ let’s go up 
and do the chores first and then after supper pre- 
tend we’ve got to hunt for something we left in the 
glen. Then we can come out here with a lantern. 
There’s no use in our poking round in this dim light 
any longer. We couldn’t find anything if we did.” 

‘‘What do you expect to find, anyway?” said 
Skip as he preceded Jim up the steep and short flight 
of stairs to the pure, welcome air above. “ You 
haven’t seen anything down there in that smelly 
place that warrants your thinking you’re going to 
find anything so awful great. I don’t believe I take 
much stock in the idea of that secret passage, after 
all. I didn’t see anything that looked like it, 
anyway.” 

“ Well, if you never believe anything ’cept what 
you see, Skip,” answered his chum, “ I guess nothing 
much would happen in this world, that’s one sure 
thing. Any one up there? ” 

“Nope; coast’s clear, come on. No one’s seen 
us. Well,” laughed Skip, “ I’m with you, no mat- 
ter what crazy thing you do next. I’m ready to 
follow where you lead and I guess that’s more’n 
most fellers’d do, all righty. ’Cause ’tain’t so 
awful pleasant nosing around in that moldy place. 
So far’s I can see there’s just four walls, floor and 
ceiling, mostly wood — and rotten at that — and 
where it ain’t wood it’s earth hard as a rock and 
smooth as an ice pond, and the barrels in one 


2i2 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


corner, with counterfeit money in ’em. Now, then, 
smarty, what do you see, more’n that ? ” 

“ Hum,” Jim answered, stooping to dig some 
mold from his shoe with a charred bit of stick. “ I 
see a tunnel beginning somewhere down there, and 
leading into the house and up — ” here he stood erect 
and looked straight into Skip’s expectant eyes — 
“ up, up, between the walls to the secret room ! 
That is what / see! ” 

“You do? Gee whizz, I bet you’re right,” said 
Skip, for the second time that afternoon, and Jim 
answered as he had the first time : 

“ Right ? Of course I’m right. Come on, now, 
begin to clear away again for here are the girls, 
back from the station.” 

The boys, as they made a pretense of being busy, 
managed to continue their conversation unheard by 
Helen and Gertrude who stood in the open doorway 
at the end of the hall and watched them. 

“ Say, Jim,” whispered Skip, “ we can’t do any 
more hunting to-night. We’re going to have that 
bonfire.” 

“ That’s so, worse luck,” Jim answered. “ I 
hadn’t thought of that.” 

“Well, how’ll we manage?” asked his friend. 

“ We’ll have to wait till to-morrow, I guess, for 
that pile of stuff must be cleared up so’s your pa 
can begin on the piazza. I’m just bound to have 
things look decent when Sam and — and — my 
father come home.” 

“ Say, Jim, seems to me you’re too sure about — ” 


SKIP’S DISCOVERY 


213 


“ No, I ain’t either,” interrupted Jim, as he 
stopped working and turned down his sleeves, “ I 
am just as sure about that as I am about the tunnel 
to the secret room. I’ve got something to prove 
that, though, and I haven’t about Sam and my father. 
But both will come true, you see if they won’t. 
Seeing isn’t always believing. Sometimes you 
know a thing’s so and yet you can’t prove it ! And 
that’s the way I know my father’s coming home, but 
though I can’t prove that , I can about the tunnel to 
the secret room.” 

“How can you? Now you’re just talking 
through your hat, Jim.” 

“ No, I ain’t. Now, you listen.” 

“ Go on ; I’m listening.” 

“ Well, remember that the walls in that corner 
of the house are so thick that the windows have 
inside and outside blinds to ’em?” 

“ Yep.” 

“ Well, that tunnel that we’ve got to find, either 
leads from the hole we’ve just discovered or from 
the cellar under the house, to some kind of a way 
up, between the walls, to the secret room. There’s 
space enough.” 

“ Not for a fat feller like me,” laughed Skip. 

Helen, beckoning just then from the doorway, 
and calling, “ Come to supper, boys, aren’t you 
hungry ? ” stopped their planning for the time, and 
as they willingly obeyed the call, Skip patted Jim 
on the back. 

“ You certainly take the cake for thinking things 


214 THE mystery of grey oak inn 


out,” he said, “ but I more’n half believe it’s just as 
you say.” 

“But however can we find that tunnel?” then 
said Jim, and he shook his head in rather a dubious 
way. “ First, there’s the bonfire, then the men to 
dodge, and after we do get to work, there’s — ” 

“ Well, let’s wash up and eat first,” Skip, the prac- 
tical, interrupted, “ and by that time perhaps you’ll 
have thought of just what to do.” 


CHAPTER XX 


ON THE TRAIL 

J IM stood first on one foot and then on the other 
and twisted the buttons on his flannel shirt till 
one flew off and bounded way across the room. He 
felt quite as miserable as he looked and that was 
saying a great deal; for, after successfully dodging 
Mr. and Mrs. Lyford ever since the storm, they had 
at last succeeded in compelling him to listen to their 
hearty thanks and admiration for his courageous 
action. The rest of the household had separated 
as usual after supper, and were busy about their re- 
spective tasks. Jim, still hungry, had lingered over 
his second doughnut and glass of milk. So the 
Lyfords, seeing their opportunity, had slipped back 
to the table, and Jim, though he hastily arose, could 
not, this time, avoid them. 

“ Oh, shucks,” at last he stammered, “ ’twa’n’t 
nothing. Don’t take on so, Mis’ Lyford. I’m glad 
to have obliged you, of course, but little Gertrude 
would have gotten along all right without me, I 
guess, if I hadn’t been there.” 

“ Oh, no, she wouldn’t,” her mother cried, 
“ and—” 

“ But you were there,” added her father, “ and 
215 


216 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


we want to offer you — that is, we want to give 
you — ” 

“ No, you don’t, you don’t give me one cent, Mr. 
Lyford,” angrily interrupted Jim, his thin face flush- 
ing from chin to brow ; “ I guess I can help a bit 
’ithout being paid to be decent. I guess I’d be 
pretty small potatoes if I couldn’t.” 

“ But I don’t mean to pay you, Jim,” responded 
Mr. Lyford, and as his wife left them together he 
smiled in a friendly way while inwardly approving 
the lad’s high spirit. “ What I was going to say 
was this, and though you may not have noticed it, 
it is true none the less, that when any one shows he 
is equal to an emergency there is always a need for 
that person in some capacity right away. And so 
Mrs. Lyford and I want to give you an opportunity 
of doing something more for Gertrude — if you’re 
willing, that is.” 

“ All right. What is it ? I’m willing enough, I 
guess, so fire ahead,” Jim hastily answered, half 
ashamed of his unjust suspicions of a moment 
before. 

“ Well, then, how does this proposition strike you ? 
Do you want to build a little shack up in the pines 
for her? She needs high, dry, mountain air and 
that which blows through the pine grove is so 
strengthening, her mother would like to have her 
try sleeping up there for the rest of the summer. 
And after you’ve built the shack, or hut, or what- 
ever you call it, and they’ve moved up there, we’d 
like to engage you to drive them up and down every 


ON THE TRAIL 


217 

night and morning. What do you think about 
it?” 

“I think it’s just a bully idea, Mr. Lyford, and 
of course I’ll do it. Will Helen sleep up there, 
too ? ” 

“ If she wishes — and your shack is big enough.” 

“ Oh, I can manage that part all right enough, 
I guess,” eagerly answered Jim, “ for there’s more 
than enough rocks and old stumps up there now 
than I’d need to build a dozen houses with, let alone 
such a small thing as you want. And Mr. Jones can 
haul me a few entra planks when he gets the timber 
for the piazza.” 

“ And we’ll rent the land from you and hire your 
team and time, you know,” continued Mr. Lyford; 
“ that’s understood.” 

The thought flashed through Jim’s mind, “ money 
to find my father with,” so he at once agreed and 
went with the promoter of this delightful scheme 
in order to tell his grandfather all about it. Mr. 
Burton was very glad and much interested and Jim 
felt not a little proud of the fact that so soon after 
coming into possession of the pines he was to realize 
an income from them. He wanted to go right up 
and begin at once. And his grandfather and Mr. 
Lyford laughed at his enthusiasm. 

“ Sleep on it first,” they said, “ and before you 
do that there’s the bonfire to attend to, you know.” 

“ Oh, yes, of course,” laughed Jim, “ I didn’t 
really mean to begin to-night,” and as he happily 
wheeled his grandfather’s chair to the back of the 


218 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


house, it was quite hard to think calmly of the many 
and interesting things which, one after another, 
waited his time and attention. Above everything 
else in importance, however, was the finding of the 
secret room and Jim gave a little sigh of satisfaction 
as he thought that the quest would be ended in the 
morning. Such a thing as meeting with disappoint- 
ment never entered his mind. He pictured to him- 
self how the room would look; it was hard to wait 
until to-morrow’s sunlight would allow him to con- 
tinue the search; but in the meantime he willingly 
turned his attention to the bonfire; and this was a 
great success. 

The entire Jones family came to it and each and 
all threw into the pit of fire everything left from 
the ruins which was still food for the hungry flames. 
The boys and the campers dragged the heavy timbers 
and half-burned furniture, window casements and 
doors to the edge of the old cellar and pushed them 
in. The greedy fire would greet them with a roar 
and a shower of sparks. Two busy hours were 
spent in this way. The men, helping here and there, 
when needed, kept a careful watch over everything 
and those who were not at work grouped together 
at a safe distance from the heat and flames and be- 
come greatly interested in the proceedings. More 
than once Mr. Jones and Mr. Lyford had to inter- 
fere when the campers, intent on their novel and 
needed task of destruction, would have fed the eager 
fire too rapidly. At last the flames died down to a 
subdued, glowing bed of coals from which no danger 


ON THE TRAIL 


219 


could possibly threaten the old gray house. Jim 
and Skip, who had been unusually quiet, and had 
spent most of their time sitting on an overturned 
chest which covered the newly found staircase, at 
last much to their relief, noticed that the party was 
breaking up. 

Mr. Jones and his family, because it was so late, 
decided to go right home and not wait for the 
crackers and milk and cake Mr. Burton offered to 
all. With many jokes and good-night wishes, every 
one moved slowly around to the front of the house. 
Jim wheeled his grandfather and as Skip was to 
spend the night with his chum the two boys helped 
the invalid prepare for the night together. Then 
they went into Jim’s room and closed the door and 
Mr. Burton, listening in vain for their subdued 
laughter and usual bedtime frolic, thought that out 
of consideration for him, they had at once gone to 
bed. So he contentedly closed his eyes, and, thank- 
ful for the quiet, happily fell asleep. 

It was quiet in Jim’s room, for the boys were not 
there ! As soon as they had closed the door behind 
them they had knelt down and taken off their shoes. 
Then, tiptoeing over the floor and tossing them out 
of the window, they deftly scrambled over the sill 
and noiselessly dropped to the ground beneath. It 
took but a few minutes to light the lantern which, 
just after supper, Skip had secreted for this pur- 
pose, and then they were at last embarked upon the 
hunt for the secret room. They had decided that 
they could not wait until the next day and that they 


220 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


would not allow anything to keep them from carry- 
ing out their determination. So that is why they 
did not join the family in the late supper party in 
the pantry, nor pay any attention to the gay laughter 
which floated out to them from the open windows 
and door. They forgot, perhaps for the first time 
in their lives, how good bread and milk tastes when 
eaten late at night after any kind of a good time. 
And as the others thought that they were as they 
professed to be, unusually tired, and had gone to 
bed, their absence was thus explained. 

At first, the small, damp cellar promised no solu- 
tion to their quest. “ Where does the tunnel come 
in, or go out ? ” whispered Skip. He sat down on 
the lowest step of the stairs to put on his shoes. 
“ You’d better do the same, Jim,” he said, “ because 
there’s no knowing what we may step on.” 

“ All right,” answered Jim. He placed the lan- 
tern carefully on the floor while he followed his 
friend’s example. Then, the last knot tied, he 
straightened up and looked around him before he 
picked up the lantern to continue the search for the 
tunnel which, he still assured Skip, he knew they 
would find. Quite naturally he glanced at the little 
ribbon of soft, yellow light that reached out from 
the lantern to the cluster of barrels in one corner. 
The damp earth floor showed level and monotonous 
up to a certain point, but at that point, quite close 
to the largest barrel, was there not something that 
looked different? A slight roughness in the 
ground? Jim dashed over to the spot and rolled 


ON THE TRAIL 


221 


the barrel aside. Skip caught up the lantern and 
in two bounds was at his side. And there, half 
hidden by the other barrels, which stood on a trap- 
door of iron-clamped timbers, yawned the black en- 
trance to a narrow passageway. All the barrels 
had to be moved before the boys could gain admit- 
tance, but in less time than it takes to tell it, they 
were carefully treading their way, in single file, 
down a contracted, stone-walled ditch which led in 
the direction of the house. Jim went first and car- 
ried the lantern. Skip, his hand on the other’s 
shoulder, followed close behind. Neither spoke. 
They had to bend their heads a little to escape hit- 
ting the roof of the tunnel which, made of rough 
hewn planks, looked as though it might fall down 
if merely touched. Jim’s breath came in short, 
quick gasps and Skip was no less excited. Finally 
the former hesitated, then stopped and whispered : 

“ Say, Skip, have you noticed that we ain’t coming 
down any more? We’ve taken five steps on a level 
now.” 

“ Yep, I’ve counted ’em, too,” murmured Skip. 
“ I s’pose we’re under the cellar, don’t you? ” 

“ Yes, and don’t you feel fresh air, too? ” 

Skip took a long, deep breath, and then said, “ Of 
course, I do. It’s blowing on our faces, too. Now 
you go slow, Jim. No knowin’ what you’ll step 
on to. Maybe a bottomless pit’s right in front of 
us.” 

“No danger of that,” softly answered Jim, 
“ ’cause the lantern lights up the tunnel for three 


222 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


or four feet in front of me and it’s all right. But 
I certainly do feel a difference in the air. It’s been 
so close and musty before, but now — ” 

“ Look up,” interrupted his chum. 

Jim did so and saw that they were standing be- 
neath a point in the wooden ceiling, which, more 
decayed than the rest, showed several gaping holes 
which framed spots of intense blackness. While 
Jim still held the lantern aloft, Skip wrenched off 
a bit of the planking and enlarged the openings into 
one. Then bracing it against the stone side of the 
tunnel, he managed, with Jim’s help, to boost him- 
self up far enough to thrust his head and shoulders 
through the hole. In a second he dropped back 
beside his friend. 

“ We’re right under the cellar,” he whispered. 
“ And the door at the head of the stairs is open and 
I heard Ellen laugh. She and Mis’ Lyford must 
be washing up the dishes.” 

“ D’you ever! ” answered Jim. “ I s’pose this is 
where Blackie caught the mice the day we opened 
the house. I guess she caught all there were.” 

“ I’m sure I hope she did,” answered Skip. “ It 
would be rather close quarters to meet one now, 
wouldn’t it ? ” 

“ You bet it would. Well, come on. I don’t feel 
so trembly as I did. Do you? Want to finish?” 

“ Well, I guess,” replied Skip. They proceeded 
as before. Half a dozen steps, taken with more 
confidence, now that they realized how near they 
were to the everyday things of life, brought them 


ON THE TRAIL 


223 


to the end of the tunnel. The damp, rough walls 
of the house’s foundation loomed up before them. 
And, clamped and riveted firmly into the stone and 
mortar, were to be seen the lowest rungs of an iron 
ladder which led up into the blackness above them! 

“ There — you see ! Didn’t I tell you so ? ” ex- 
claimed Jim. 

Skip’s only answer was “ Cricky ! ” He could 
not add another word, but none was needed, nor, in- 
deed, would it have been heard. Jim, the lantern 
on his arm, was already far above him, cautiously 
feeling his way from one rung to another as he 
made rapid progress into the unknown mysteries at 
the end of the rusty ladder. 

Skip, drawing a deep breath, followed him, and 
in a few moments caught at Jim’s foot, which was 
thrust back in order to take another step upward. 
The heavy heel struck him in the forehead and, 
blinded for a moment with the pain, he closed his 
eyes and almost lost his balance. Jim, realizing 
what he had done, uttered an exclamation of pity 
and, reaching down, helped to draw the other up 
next to him. It was very close quarters but they 
managed to keep a firm hold on the ladder, and 
Jim’s arm was affectionately thrown around his 
friend’s shoulders, 

“ Feel better ? ” he asked. 

“ Yep, I’m all right now,” whispered Skip. 
“ S-sh, listen ; put the lantern behind us,” he quickly 
added, but in so low a voice that Jim had to bend 
his head to hear. 


224 THE mystery of grey oak inn 

When the light was shielded the boys pressed 
their faces against the wall nearest the house and 
could not only detect a low murmur of conversation 
which came to them from the other side of the panel- 
ing, but could also' see a thin thread of light which 
found its way through the various minute cracks 
in the dry and seasoned woodwork. The boys were 
so pleased they had all they could do to keep from 
laughing out loud. They could tell, from the voices, 
that they were opposite the room above Mr. Bur- 
ton’s — the apartment which Mr. and Mrs. Lyford 
had chosen. Still farther above this was — must 
be — the secret room ! 

“Only a few more steps now,” said Jim, and he 
again began to climb. “ All right, Skip? ” 

His chum nodded yes, and this time kept so close 
to Jim that the light of the lantern enveloped them 
both and he was in no danger of again being hit 
in the head by an excited boy’s shoe. So up they 
went, unafraid, but so excited over their great ad- 
venture that nervous chills thrilled them from head 
to foot. Ten — nine — eight steps more to the top'. 
But Jim did not know that so he stopped to rest. 
Then on again. Six — five — four ! Skip sneezed 
at this point; sneezed so unexpectedly, so loud and 
so long that he could not smother the noise, and 
Jim began to scold. Then they both leaned against 
each other and shook with suppressed laughter. 
For they could' hear faintly, though very distinctly, 
Mr. Lyford say : 


ON THE TRAIL 


225 

“ There, Gertrude’s sneezing again. Will you go 
in and cover her up, mother? ” 

A slight, swishing sound indicated that some one 
was moving to the next room. Jim pointed to a 
very small hole in the wall, through which these 
sounds had come. It was so high up and so small 
that the occupants of the room would not notice it, 
but j ust at present it was on the level with the boys’ 
eyes. “ I s’pose the old counterfeiter made it on 
purpose,” giggled Skip, “ so’s he could hear ’ithout 
being seen.” 

Again they mounted. Three — two — one — 
no more. Jim’s groping hand, extended above his 
head, came in contact with a trapdoor which yielded 
to his pressure, and, being raised up against the wall, 
clicked against a spring and was thus held open. 
Jim shoved the lantern as far as his arm could reach 
on a dusty floor he could but dimly see. He turned 
around and sat on the edge of the opening; then he 
lent a helping hand to Skip and in another breath- 
less second the boys realized that their quest was 
ended. Was it really possible that they had at last 
found the secret room? 


CHAPTER XXI 


IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT 

DON’T believe it,” gasped Skip, out of breath 
owing to his difficult climb up the steep and 
rusty ladder. “ It’s too good to be true. I bet 
we’re dreaming, Jim. Just you give me a good, 
hard pinch to wake me up.” 

“S-sh!” cautioned Jim. “Remember the Ly- 
fords are in the room below.” 

“ I’ll be careful,” obediently answered Skip, low- 
ering his voice till Jim could barely make out the fol- 
lowing words, “ but how’s a feller to be quiet, no 
matter how hard he tries, when he’s just made 
$250?” 

Jim laughed. “ That’s so,” he said. “ That’s 
your part, all right, Skip; and you’ve certainly 
earned it. I guess your climb up the ladder wasn’t 
all a joke, was it? Particularly when I kicked you 
in the head ! ” 

“ I was only fooling, Jim, when I said that,” pro- 
tested Skip. “ You don’t really think I meant it, 
do you? ” 

“If you meant it or if you didn’t, I did ; so what’s 
the difference?” 

“ A great deal of difference to you,” retorted 
226 


IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT 227 

Skip, good-naturedly, “ for I don’t touch a cent of 
that reward.” 

“ Why not, I’d like to know ? ” 

“ Because you found — ” 

“ I never found one thing alone, Skip, and you 
know it.” 

“ You did, too. Who measured the hall, and who 
thought about the extra thick walls, and who dis- 
covered that the end window wasn’t open when I 
knew I had been in every room on this floor? ” 

“ Why, I did, of course.” 

“ Well, then, you needn’t tell me — ” 

“ But,” triumphantly interrupted Jim, “ who 
found the steps to the secret cellar? You did, Skip, 
you goose, and if you hadn’t we wouldn’t be here 
now, would we?” 

“ Yes, we would, all right, for it just happened 
that way. I stumbled over something and found 
the steps. I didn’t think any of it out as you did. 
I never in the world would have thought of that 
tunnel and this ladder and you know it, Jim. No, 
siree, not one cent of the $500 do I take. ’Tain’t 
right I should.” 

“ And who’s the best judge of that, I should like 
to know ? ” 

“ Well, I am, for one, but any one’d tell you the 
same thing.” 

“Well, then,” Jim answered, a mischievous 
twinkle in his eyes, “just climb down the ladder 
again, will you ? ” 

“ Wh-why, Jim, what do you mean ? ” 


228 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“If you ain’t going to take any of that reward, 
why you don’t do any more hunting for it, that’s 
all.” 

“Why, Jim Burton, you wouldn’t be so mean! ” 

“ ’Tain’t being mean, Skip. It’s just being as 
sensible as you are ’bout it. Don’t you think so? ” 

“ No, I don’t. And, cricky ! I don’t go one step 
down that ladder again, without you, either.” 

“ Will you go halves on the reward, then? ” 

Skip hesitated for some moments and then re- 
plied, “ I don’t see what else I can do, ’cept fight, 
and I don’t like to do that, if I want to keep on 
with you.” 

“ And I guess you do want to, don’t you ? ” 

“ You know I do.” 

“ Well, then, if that money does come from the 
president, will you take half of it? ” 

“ Why, I s’pose I’ll have to.” 

“ That ain’t any kind of an answer, Skip. Say 
yes or no.” 

“ Well, then, yes.” 

“ Honor bright?” 

“ Certain sure, Jim.” 

“ All right, it’s a go, then. Now come on, what’ll 
we do first? I’m just crazy to see what’s in here,” 
whispered Jim, as he drew himself together and 
stood upright in the little room. “ Hope the floor’s 
too thick for the Lyfords’ to hear us. I guess we’d 
better open the window, if it doesn’t make too much 
noise, for it’s so awful close and musty up here. 
And then we can’t see much with just this lantern 


IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT 229 

and there ought to be a moon. It’s a little bit of a 
place, isn’t it ? ” 

He swung the lantern to and fro above his head 
and peered into the corners that seemed to hold all 
sorts of uncanny secrets in their shadowy recesses. 
The ladder ended in a niche next to the window. 
In the center of the left-hand wall was the open 
fireplace to which Jim tiptoed and carefully placed 
the lantern on the stone hearth. He looked up 
through the flue and saw two or three stars but no 
moonlight. Then, stepping back to the window, he 
helped Skip unbar and open the shutters. They did 
not squeak when pushed back and the window, also, 
opened easily. The boys gave a sigh of relief. But 
they congratulated themselves too soon. It was not 
after all to be so easy as they thought; the outside 
shutters refused to budge ! They pushed and 
shoved and pushed. All to no purpose — they could 
not open the tightly closed wooden shutters. At 
last they stopped trying and looked at each other in 
dismay. 

“ We’ll have to wait till morning,” whispered 
Skip. 

“ But we won’t be any better off even then,” mur- 
mured Jim in reply, “ for all the light we’ll have will 
come down the chimney, and that won’t be enough. 
I don’t care if we do wake up the Ly fords,” he 
added impatiently, “ I’m going to open these plaguey 
things now ! Where’s something to hammer them 
with?” 

“ Oh, Jim, you dassent ! ” 


2 3 o THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

“Yes, I dare, too. Come on; you look, too, 
Skip.” 

Jim turned from the obstinate shutters and 
groped around in the contracted space before him, 
hoping to find a hammer or some blunt instrument 
with which to pound them open. Skip picked up 
the lantern and by its light they saw the meager and 
businesslike furnishings of the little room. Op- 
posite the window were the machines and crucible 
used for the last time, no doubt, to help mold, stamp 
and cut out the coin, which, for many years, had 
lain in the bags on the floor facing the fireplace. 
A small table and two chairs stood in the center of 
the room. On the wall over the ladder hung a 
clock. Between it and the angle toward the fire- 
place had formerly stood a heavy piece of furniture. 
What purpose it had served the boys did not at first 
know, for it no longer stood upright but rested face 
downward on the uneven pine floor. Spiders had 
spun webs from its sharp corners to the wall and 
ceiling. The lantern’s rays turned the thin threads 
to silver and one or two hairy spiders were dis- 
covered, lifeless and heavy, imprisoned in the meshes 
of their own weaving. The boys held the lantern 
lower and then saw that which caused them to al- 
most cry out in fear and make a leap for the ladder. 

Skip started first. He dropped the lantern, which 
rolled over and over till it rested against the and- 
irons in the fireplace and with a sudden flare went 
out, and in his terror, miscalculated the distance and, 
had it not been for Jim, would have fallen head first 


IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT 231 

through the open space between the walls. Jim, 
however, reached out just in time and pushed his 
chum with such force that both jumped clear of 
the danger and threw themselves heavily against the 
wall which made at that place a right angle to the 
front of the house. And then something SO' won- 
derful, so unexpected, happened that they forgot 
they were so frightened they could feel their hearts 
beat way up in their mouths. 

The force of their impact against the wall loos- 
ened an unknown and unseen spring in the base- 
board. The narrow section of wall immediately be- 
hind them slowly and noiselessly swung outward 
and they stumbled against its yielding surface, into 
one of the closets which opened into the carpenter’s 
shop. 

The two boys sank down on the floor and looked 
at each other with blanched faces. In the dark 
they could just discern each other’s eyes, big and 
round with fear and astonishment. It was hard to 
say which of the two emotions they felt the most. 
At last Jim gasped : 

" Did you see it? ” 

Skip nodded. He could not speak. He opened 
his lips but his tongue was so dry against the roof 
of his mouth he could not say a word. 

“ It was a — a — skeleton,” stammered Jim, who 
was still shaking from the effects of their awful 
discovery. 

“ Yes,” Skip finally managed to answer. “ It 
was the lost — lost — counterfeiter.” 


232 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Of course, that’s just who it is — or was,” 
hysterically answered Jim. “ And Skip! Skip! 
The whole $1,000 will be ours. $500 apiece! 
Just think of that! ” 

“ Gee ! Cricky ! D’you ever ? ” laughed the 
other in a low, nervous whisper, who, now that he 
realized their normal surroundings, felt his confi- 
dence returning and with it, his power of speech. 

The closet door, fortunately, stood open and from 
the window, not far away, the clear moonbeams 
came to them where they still crouched on the dusty 
floor, and gave light enough to enable them to get 
up and move around without being afraid of knock- 
ing into anything and making a noise. They care- 
fully crept out into the room and sat down close 
together on the carpenter’s bench. Each was glad 
of the other’s companionship and for some mo- 
ments they just sat there and quietly talked over in 
whispers, the almost miraculous manner in which 
they had found the way into the secret room. 
What they had seen in there they seemed to feel 
they could not talk about. At least, they did not 
at first mention it. 

“ It’s funny we didn’t see the joints or hinges or 
anything the other day when we were up here,” said 
Skip. “ I thought we looked as carefully as ever 
we could over every inch of the walls.” 

“ So did I,” commented Jim, “ but I guess we 
didn’t, did we? And so this is the way they came 
and went generally, I s’pose, and used the ladder to 


IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT 233 

take the money up and down on when it was fin- 
ished or when they needed new metal.” 

“ Yes, I guess that’s what they did, for they 
couldn’t be too particular, could they? ’Specially 
when they had boarders. Weren’t they awfully 
cute fellers, though? Cricky, but ain’t you crazy 
to tell the folks ? Don’t you wish morning’d 
come ? ” 

“ Yep. But say, will you go in there again? ” 

“ What, now, in the dark ? The moon’s going 
down, too.” 

“Well, here’s the candle, and some matches we 
left the first time we came up. We can cut the 
candle in two, it’s big enough. For the oil spilled 
out when the lantern rolled over, so that’s of no use 
any more.” 

“Ain’t you afraid?” 

“Are you?” 

“ I don’t believe I am, but I feel kind o’ funny.” 

“ Well, you know he’s been there more’n forty 
years. Yes, more’n fifty, I guess.” 

“ And up here all this time ! Phew ! ” 

“ But we didn’t know it.” 

“ No, and then you know, he hasn’t been here at 
all.” 

“Well, come on.” 

“ You go first.” 

“ Well, you cut the candle in two, then.” 

“ All right ! Hand it over. Now then, here’s 
one for each of us, and I only hope they’ll last as 


234 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

long as we’ll want ’em. I wonder what time ’tis, 
anyway ? ” 

“ Don’know, but it must be after midnight ’cause 
the moon’s going down. Say, it’ll be awful dark 
up here then.” 

“ Well, then, let’s hurry.” 

“ All right, you go first.” 

“ No, you.” 

“ You afraid?” 

“ No, but—”. 

“All right; you needn’t come a’tall if you’re 
afraid ” 

“ Well, I guess I ain’t any more afraid than you 
be.” 

“ Come on, then, and show me you ain’t.” 

By this time the two short pieces of candle were 
lighted and held in trembling hands. The boys 
crowded against each other at the narrow opening- 
in the rear of the closet, but it was Jim, after all, 
who entered the secret room first. Then his cour- 
age was not so great but what he was perfectly 
willing to let Skip join him before he lightly stepped 
across the narrow space to the heavy piece of furni- 
ture which, half concealing, half revealing, that 
which it had so long ago taken captive, lay before 
them. And now, fully prepared for the sight of 
the awe-inspiring relic of death, they did not turn 
and run as they had before. Instead they, very 
carefully and slowly, examined everything they saw, 
and though they did not move nor change the posi- 


IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT 235 

tion of anything, that which was spread out before 
them told its own story. 

Skip soon formed his own opinion but did not 
speak. From time to time he looked at Jim’s alert 
and expressive face, and once or twice when their 
eyes met and exchanged a glance full of agreed 
understanding, he felt that they both had discovered 
the real reason why this lost and long-advertised 
counterfeiter had not escaped with the others. In 
a few minutes their natural curiosity was satisfied. 
They turned away from the silent and dread climax 
of their midnight adventure. Skip picked up the 
lantern from the fireplace, Jim gently let down the 
trapdoor over the ladder and they went back to 
the carpenter’s shop. 

The moon had now disappeared. In the chill 
and weird hour just before the coming of dawn, the 
boys felt cold, uncomfortable and very tired. They 
wedged the secret panel open and then protected 
their discovery by shutting and locking the closet 
door. No one, to their knowledge, had told the 
campers of their search for the secret room. Mr. 
Burton alone knew of their discoveries up to the 
present night ; but they now thought they could not 
be too careful, so did not feel perfectly safe till the 
closet key was deep in Jim’s trousers pocket. Then 
they cuddled down together, their backs to the wall, 
and wrapped themselves up in an old shawl, taken 
from the closet. 

The candles sputtered and almost went out. The 


236 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


boys cautiously shielded themselves from the pene- 
trating east wind which drifted in through the open 
window. And first Jim, and then Skip, shivered. 

“ Now this is how it happened,” began Jim. 

“ Bet I know just what you’re going to say,” in- 
terrupted Skip. 

“ Well, then, maybe you’d better do the talking,” 
said Jim, in a cross kind of way. 

“ No, you go on, I’ll be quiet,” said Skip, with 
a sneeze. “ That is, as quiet as I can,” and he 
sneezed again. 

“ Hope you haven’t taken cold, Skip,” questioned 
Jim, anxiously. 

“ Nope, I’m all right,” replied the other. “ Well, 
what d’you think about it, anyway ? ” 

“ Just this,” resumed Jim, “ I bet the old codger,” 
and he nodded his head in the direction from which 
they had just come, “ was working up here with his 
pal when they heard the danger signal — the five 
shots — you know. He started with the other feller 
to go down the ladder and then thought he’d take 
what money he could away with him. They must 
have stored it in that old sec’tary.” 

“ That’s just exactly what I think,” excitedly 
agreed Skip. “ Oh, do go on, Jim.” 

“ Well, he pulled out the drawers of the sec’tary 
and filled most of his pockets and then one drawer 
stuck, and he was in such a hurry and pulled so sharp 
and so hard that he pulled the whole thing over on 
top of him. The other feller had gone, you know, 


IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT 237 

and he was there all alone and so he died. What 
do you think, Skip ? ” 

“'What do I think, Jim? I think that that’s ex- 
actly how it happened. It’s as plain as the nose on 
your face.” 

“ I think so, too,” sleepily murmured Jim. “ I 
only hope he was killed right off.” 

“ Oh, he must have been,” replied Skip. “ For 
the heavy cornice struck him right across the eyes. 
Didn’t you see? ” 

“ Yes, but don’t let’s talk about it. It’s so awful 
to think about now, so many years after it’s hap- 
pened, that it just makes me sick to think what it 
must have been then.” 

“ Well,” persisted Skip, in a reassuring way, “ no 
need to feel that way about it as I can see, for, if, as 
we both think, he was killed right off, he didn’t have 
time to feel anything, anyway. Don’t you think 
so?” 

“ I s’pose so,” answered Jim, stifling a yawn. 
“ Say, Skip, let’s go to bed. I’m awful sleepy.” 

“ All right. My, ain’t you glad we don’t have 
to go back down that ladder ? ” 

“Um-m. Well, come on! There! It’s strik- 
ing three. No ’tain’t ! Why, it’s four o’clock. 
Say, Skip, do you know we’ve been up all night ? ” 

“ My, who’d have thought it ? ” replied Skip, as 
he silently followed Jim out to the hall. “ I hope 
the stairs don’t creak. I wouldn’t wake any of 
the folks up now for a farm. I want to have the 


238 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


fun of telling them all together to-morrow, don’t 
you?” 

Jim nodded without replying. He blew out his 
candle and silently slid down the balusters. Skip 
did the same and they were both so sleepy they were 
scarcely able to keep awake long enough to reach 
their bed. Each threw himself, full length, on the 
outside of the clean counterpane. Even the fact 
that they had just passed the most eventful night 
of their lives, and that in a few hours they would 
have the joyful experience of telling their adven- 
tures to the entire household, could not keep them 
awake. And so the old world rolled another day 
into the past and a new one full of life and action 
into the present, and in spite of the important place 
which had been reserved in it for the boys, they still 
slept. Who could blame them? 


CHAPTER XXII 


AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED? 

4CT?0R the land’s sake, boys, wake up! Where 
under the sun have you been to get in such a 
mess? Why, you ain’t even undressed, either! 
And look at the dirt your shoes have tracked in to 
say nothing of the counterpane! Come, wake up! 
Breakfast’s ready and here you two lazy things are 
still snoozing! Your grandfather needs you to 
wheel him to the table, Jim, so do get a hustle on; 
you know how he hates to be kept waiting; and as 
for you, Skip, you lazy sinner, you belong to me, and 
if you don’t get up and out’n this in mighty quick 
time, I’ll take you over my knee and wallop you 
good ! ” 

It would be hard to tell whether Mr. Jones was 
more amused or provoked at the difficulty he had 
in waking the boys, but not until he stopped talking, 
where he stood by the door of their room, and ad- 
vanced to the bedside did he succeed in making any 
impression on their extreme drowsiness. Even then 
they only murmured a sleepy, “ all right,” and rolled 
over, as though to find a more comfortable position 
that they might prolong their rest. Such, however, 
was not Mr. Jones’ intention. When further words 
and a gentle shake or two failed to produce any 
satisfactory result, he resorted to harsher methods 
239 


2 4 o THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


in the shape of cold water plentifully sprinkled over 
their dirty faces and tightly closed eyes. That 
worked quite as well as could be expected. With 
muttered threats of, “ I’ll get even with you, just 
wait,” and “ stop that, you mean thing,” the boys 
resigned themselves to their fate and sat up, rubbing 
the sleep from their eyes. 

“ I thought you were Ellen,” said Skip. 

“Yes,” laughingly replied his father, “I hardly 
thought your affectionate remarks were addressed 
to your dad.” 

“Oh, Mr. Jones!” exclaimed Jim, “we’ve got 
such news to tell you ! ” 

“ Won’t it keep till you’ve reached the table ? ” 
asked the man, “ for your breakfast’s getting cold 
and I shouldn’t wonder if we’d all like to hear.” 

“ You’ll have the greatest surprise of your life, 
pa,” Skip laughed as he vigorously splashed his face 
and hands at the washstand and then as vigorously 
wielded a whisk-broom over his rumpled clothes. 
“ You haven’t any idea, have you, what we’ve — ” 

“ Ah, now, don’t, Skip,” Jim interrupted, “ wait 
til we’re all together.” 

“ All right, but gee whizz, I’m just crazy to tell 
some one. What d’you come ’round so early for, 

o n 

par 

“To begin on the piazza, son. Look out the win- 
dow and you’ll see the lumber — just hauled it up. 
Plenty of work ahead of you two youngsters for 
the rest of the summer, I guess. Now, you all 
ready? Come on, then, let’s get to breakfast.” 


AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED? 241 

Jim ran into his grandfather’s room and wheeled 
him to the table where the assembled household were 
still engaged over their morning coffee and hot 
bread. The boys managed to choke down a few 
mouthfuls but were too excited to really eat any kind 
of a meal. Mrs. Lyford looked anxiously at them 
once or twice and hoped they were not going to be 
ill — their eyes were so bright and their faces were 
so flushed. 

“ Oh, don’t you worry any, please, Mrs. Lyford,” 
said Jim, in a reassuring way, “ for there’s nothing 
the matter with us, ’cept we’re just bursting with a 
story we want to tell.” 

“ Well then,” she laughed, “ let’s have it, now 
that we’re all here, before we leave the table, for 
we certainly wouldn’t want anything like that to 
happen.” 

“ No’m,” soberly answered Skip; “ I kinder guess 
we’d muss things all up, wouldn’t we? Now then,” 
he continued, turning to his chum and unmindful of 
the laughter which half drowned his last remark, 
“ you begin, Jim.” 

Jim looked at Mr. Burton and laid his hand on 
the old man’s shoulder. “ No, you begin, grandpa,” 
he said, “ for you are in this, too.” 

“Me?” questioned his grandfather. 

“ Yes; tell the story of this house up to the time, 
you know — ” he whispered a few words in the old 
man’s ear — “Then we’ll finish.” 

“ Wh-what ! ” gasped Mr. Burton, in such gen- 
uine astonishment every one knew that something 


242 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


quite out of the ordinary was about to be told them. 
“ You don’t mean to say, Jim, that you’ve — ” 

Jim softly placed his hand across his grandfather’s 
lips. “ Yep,” he laughed, “we have; but won’t 
you tell your part of the story first? That’ll lead 
up to our part and then we’ll finish.” 

Mr. Burton exchanged a surprised glance with 
Mr. Jones. He was visibly agitated. In a second, 
however, he had regained his self-possession. 
“ What Jim wants me to tell,” he said, “ is how this 
old house was built; and though many of you may 
have listened to various yarns concerning it, its 
builder and the part I played in its building, down 
to the store, I guess what I’ll tell you now’ll be the 
only true and sensible story after all; it certainly 
is strange how a simple yarn can change in the tell- 
ing of it, to the most monstrous fairy tale you ever 
heard of.” 

“ That’s so,” chuckled Skip, and Jim added, “ I 
wish Sam was here.” 

“ So do I, so do I,” assented his grandfather, and 
then he began his story. 

The room, full of absorbed and expectant lis- 
teners, was breathlessly quiet till he had reached 
the time of his son’s departure from home and 
finished what he called his “ part of the story.” 
Then Jim, urged by a nod from his grandfather, 
took up the narrative and, beginning with the epi- 
sode of the tame crow, brought the story down to 
the day Skip and he first went upstairs and dis- 
covered the carpenter’s shop. He stopped at this 


AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED? 243 

point and cleared his throat. He was quite hoarse 
but anxious to continue because he saw how inter- 
ested his audience was, and their undivided atten- 
tion made him feel he couldn’t talk fast enough. 
The most exciting part, of course, was yet to come, 
and Helen and Gertrude sat on the edge of their 
chairs, their bright eyes riveted on his face. He 
enjoyed their excitement. Then he looked at Skip 
and realized that his chum, always generous and 
thoughtless of self, had as much to do with the 
rest of the story as he had. Yet he sat quietly 
there, between the girls, and looked as interested 
and excited as though he did not know what was 
coming next. For one perplexing moment Jim 
hesitated. The others waited patiently. They 
thought he was still resting his voice. He wasn’t, 
however; he was trying to make up his mind to let 
Skip continue. It was very hard to do this and 
at first it seemed that he couldn’t stop — that he 
must finish the story himself. Then he shrugged 
his shoulders, drew a long breath, and said : 

“ There, that’s all my part. Skip must tell the 
rest.” 

“ Me? Why, I can’t; I can’t, Jim. You go on,” 
stuttered Skip, growing suddenly quite red with 
pleasure and embarrassment. He did want to finish 
the story, for now was to come the most wonderful, 
the most exciting part of all. Yet could he tell it 
as it should be told? No, he couldn’t. Jim must 
do it. But Jim was not to be persuaded; so, when 
Skip realized that, he plunged right in, and, if the 


244 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


listeners had been interested before, they were spell- 
bound now. 

Skip never hesitated nor left out a thing. He 
showed the black and blue mark on his forehead 
where Jim’s boot heel had struck him, handed round 
one of the counterfeit coins he had kept from the 
bag that was in the barrel, and finally held up to 
view the candle end he had thrust in his pocket 
five hours before. Then he drew his hand across 
his hot forehead, and, for he had risen to his feet 
while talking, dropped back in his chair, quite 
pleased and satisfied with the effect made by his 
description of their exciting midnight adventure. 

The moment of breathless astonishment which 
followed was broken by Ellen who exclaimed : 

“ Well, there! I never did! You sure you 
didn’t dream all this, boys ? ” 

“ Not a dream,” laughed Jim. “ It’s as exciting 
as finding the crazy counterfeiter, isn’t it?” He 
looked up into his grandfather’s face. “ Ain’t you 
surprised, grandpa?” 

“ Surprised ain’t the word, my boy,” replied Mr. 
Burton. “ I don’t know what to say. To think 
that after all these years he — Job Greenough — 
should be upstairs — and to think that I can’t get 
up there — ” 

“ Oh, but you must,” interrupted Mrs. Lyford. 
“ Can’t he be carried up, father? Can’t you manage 
some way ? ” 

“ I don’t see why not,” answered her husband, 
thoughtfully. “ For certainly you ought to be the 


AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED? 245 

first to see to things up there, Mr. Burton. I don’t 
want to go up there without you.” 

“ Nor I,” agreed Mr. Jones; “ and yet I just got 
to get up there, Burton. ’Tain’t in human nature 
to wait a minute longer than we have to,” he 
laughed. “ I tell you what, Burton, old man, we 
can easily carry you up; the way you and I used to 
take our wives across the road in muddy weather. 
You haven’t forgotten those days when we used to 
make a chair by crossing our hands, have you, and 
the girls would slip their arms around our necks 
and squeal, they were so afraid we’d drop ’em? ” 

“ And didn’t you — ever ? ” mischievously asked 
Helen. 

“ Ah, that’s telling,” laughed Mr. Jones. “ Did 
we, Burton ? ” 

“Well, I won’t give you ’way, ’tany' rate,” 
chuckled his friend. His eyes sparkled with ex- 
citement at the prospect of being carried upstairs 
and the unusual sight which awaited him there. 
For, without a second’s hesitation he said he was 
willing “ to be toted like a bag of meal, if he couldn’t 
get there any other way.” 

Amid much excitement and laughter every one 
left the table and hurried out into the hall. There, 
Mr. Lyford, looking around over his little company, 
at once decided that there were too many to go up- 
stairs at the same time. Consequently they good- 
naturedly divided into two groups, each, of course, 
to be personally conducted by Jim and Skip. The 
college boys then went out to their farming and tree 


246 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


cultivation, and the others hastened up to the secret 
room, now secret no longer. 

The heroes of the day ran ahead, closely followed 
by Gertrude and Helen. Mrs, Lyford and Ellen 
were not far behind, and when they reached the 
carpenter’s shop a few moments only elapsed before 
Mr. Lyford and Mr. Jones, gently carrying Mr. 
Burton between them, slowly entered the room. 
They carefully sat their burden down and while they 
rested the boys unlocked the closet door. They 
showed the girls many of the old treasures they had 
discovered and hovered nervously around, like birds 
about to fly away. 

“ Is there a chair in there for me? ” queried his 
grandfather of Jim, and when the lad said yes, 
the man turned to his old friend. “ I’m ready now, 
Jonesy,” he whispered, and his lip quivered a little. 
His neighbor, declining Mr. Lyford’s silently of- 
fered aid, easily picked the invalid up in his arms 
and passed through the two doors of the closet into 
the secret room. 

The others, held by a common impulse, waited 
in silence. Even little Gertrude, young as she was, 
seemed to understand that it must be hard for the 
venerable owner of the old stone house to come face 
to face so unexpectedly with such unhappy mem- 
ories of the past. So she stood quietly by her 
mother’s side till they heard a call from the other 
room and when, one by one, they all moved through 
the narrow aperture, she was still more impressed 
by the unusual sight which confronted her. The 


AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED? 247 

mysterious machinery, the trapdoor, now open 
and down whose black depths she fearfully glanced, 
the fallen piece of furniture, and the still, shrouded 
something concealed beneath it, stamped a picture 
on her mind which she never forgot. She was not 
afraid. The presence of her mother and father 
reassured her, and the time- faded linen sheet, which 
Mr. Jones had caught from the closet shelf, com- 
pletely hid the mortal remains of the lost coun- 
terfeiter. Yet she was glad her mother held her 
hand. 

“ The boys were right,” said Mr. Burton. 
“ Poor, old, deluded Job! Stopped to fill his pock- 
ets with the counterfeit gold and was too hasty! 
He always had a fiery temper. I remember how 
mad he used to get if things did not go his way at 
once. He always lit out on somebody; and this 
time he jerked too hard on those drawers that held 
the stored-up coin and they got back at him. And 
there he is! No, not there! But — well, now we 
know what became of him ! Won’t the crazy coun- 
terfeiter be surprised when he hears about it! I 
s’pose he’ll be crazier’n ever! Well, well, what a 
lesson this is to you, boys, and girls — and to all 
of us ! Though here’s hoping we don’t need any 
such lesson ! But honesty pays ; that, and that, only, 
all the days of our life! Well, now I guess we’d 
better get back into more cheerful surroundings, 
hadn’t we ? I’d like to see my sunny corner on the 
front piazza more than ever just at present, and 
I presume the boys wouldn’t mind acting as an 


248 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


escort to the rest of the folks. Ain’t that so, 
boys?” 

They smilingly assured him that it was and that 
it was their intention to come up the ladder again. 
Mr. Lyford laughingly said that he was glad he 
didn’t have to come that way and when Ellen re- 
membered, with a start, that the breakfast table 
still remained uncleared and started on a run for 
the dining room, the others soon followed, though 
not in so great a hurry. 

Very little work was done by the inmates of the 
big stone house that day. Those who had not 
already been to the secret room, spent the rest of 
the morning toiling up the ladder to the little cubby 
hole, for it was scarcely more than that, and after- 
ward, as they sat grouped about Mr. Burton’s chair 
on the porch, in talking over the wonderful way 
in which the secret had been discovered. All 
through the dinner hour the same subject was under 
discussion and it was not brought to a close till 
Mr. Lyford set the good example of once more 
returning to work. His followers joined him. 
And then Mr. Burton said, as the boys were about 
to help Skip’s father on the new piazza: 

“ Hold on a minute, youngsters, who’s going to 
write to Washington?” 

“ Write to Washington ? Why, I never thought 
about that! ” exclaimed Jim. 

“ Well, I guess you’d better,” laughed Skip, “or 
if you don’t, some one else may claim the reward.” 

“ There’s no danger of that,” Mr. Burton re- 


AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED? 249 

plied, “ but the President ought to be told about 
the secret room, don’t you think so? And it seems 
to me that you boys are the ones to do it — to write 
that letter.” 

“ Who, me ? What — write a letter to the Presi- 
dent of the United States?” asked Jim. 

“ Why, Eve never done such a thing in my whole 
life!” stammered Skip. 

“ Well, I don’t s’pose you have,” responded Mr. 
Burton, laughing heartily at their amazement. “ I 
haven’t either, but I’m going to — this afternoon. 
Jim, you get the paper, ink and pens and move the 
little hall table out under the maples where it’s 
nice and shady. We’ll write our letters there and 
when they’re finished you can drive down to the 
post-office and send ’em off.” 

“ But I don’t know how to address him, or any- 
thing,” demurred Skip. 

“ Oh, come on, ’fraid cat,” said Jim, who was 
already full of enthusiasm over the novel suggestion 
of sending a letter to the most honored man in the 
United States. “ Just tell him in the politest way 
you can, everything you know and did about it. 
That’ll be all right, won’t it, grandpa ? ” 

“ It certainly will, my boy, and now let’s get to 
work.” 

They wrote their letters not far from Mr. Jones, 
who was working busily on the new piazza, and 
what charred timbers the fire had spared. Almost 
at their feet was the entrance to the counterfeiter’s 
cellar. Perhaps all these unusual objects in the 


250 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

generally quiet and orderly dooryard helped to in- 
spire the boys. Perhaps the memory of their last 
night’s adventure alone, was all they needed to give 
them courage to write their letters. Whatever in- 
spired them, however, still stayed to spur them on 
long after Mr. Burton had finished and addressed 
his communication to Washington. So he leaned 
back in his chair and patiently waited till the chums, 
often giggling and comparing notes, had also fin- 
ished their letters. Each one read his aloud and 
when it had received the approval of both listeners 
was stamped and sealed in its envelope. Then the 
boys caught and harnessed Judge and drove down 
to the post-office to send off their important news. 

While waiting for the afternoon mail, which was 
then just arrived, to be distributed, they had great 
fun in telling their story all over again. The 
farmers and villagers, who were also waiting for 
their papers and letters, crowded around them in 
eagerness. Many there were who wanted to go 
right up to the farm and see the cellar, the secret 
room and all that had, though unknown till now, 
helped to make the old stone house so mysterious 
all these years. But the boys said “ No.” It had 
been decided, just before they left home, that noth- 
ing should be disturbed nor any visitor admitted 
to the counterfeiter’s den till after word had been 
received from Washington. The too curious and 
persistent ones had to be told this again and again 
before they could be dissuaded from following the 
boys right home. 


AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED? 251 

At last, with more or less difficulty, Jim suc- 
ceeded in getting what mail there was for the farm, 
and in driving away from the noisy, incredulous 
group at the post-office. Then, pleased with the 
excitement they had left behind them, they settled 
down in the buggy and while Skip drove, Jim looked 
over the letters. 

“ Oh, Skip,” he suddenly cried, “ do hurry up ! 
Here’s a letter from Sam. And the postmark’s so 
blurred I can’t see where it’s from! Oh, do drive 
faster ! ” 

“ Ain’t it to you ? ” 

“ No, it’s for grandpa. Oh, what do you s’pose 
is in it? Here, let me take the reins.” 

“ Hold on there, Jim, don’t you take on so. I 
guess I c’n drive’s fast as you can. Git ap, you 
Judge! ” 

“ I’ve been thinking of Sam all day, off’n on,” 
Jim continued, leaning forward as though to help 
Judge along still faster, “ and I’ve been awfully 
sorry he wasn’t in on all this fun with us. But 
now, gee, Skip, if he’s heard anything ’bout my 
father, I’ll be glad he was away. Hurry, can’t 
you? I’m just crazy to know what’s in this let- 
ter.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


A LETTER FROM SAM 

CAM’S letter was short and did not tell half so 
^ much as Jim wanted it to tell. The traveler 
wrote, “ He was fuller’ n rheumatiz than a pig is of 
bristles,” and “ didn’t think overmuch of New 
York, it was so pesky full of people, all a-hurryin’ 
for the money they were afraid th’ other feller’d 
git fur st.” He’d “ be glad and thankful to get 
back home where it was clean and quiet and he could 
have a doughnut for breakfast like a Christian.” 

Mr. Burton read that much aloud to Jim and 
then laid the letter down till he polished his glasses 
on his handkerchief. The two were alone in the 
invalid’s room and, after an exciting and tiresome 
day, were getting ready for bed. This would be 
the third time they had read and commented on 
the news from Sam, and Jim was bitterly disap- 
pointed. After adjusting his spectacles in front 
of his keen and penetrating eyes, Mr. Burton looked 
at his grandson for a moment and then said kindly : 

“ Don’t take on so, my boy ; he doesn’t give him 
up yet and so long as he doesn’t, we mustn’t.” 

“ Oh, I haven’t given up, grandpa ! ” exclaimed 
Jim as he slipped into his night clothes, “ for I’ll 
252 


A LETTER FROM SAM 


253 


never do that. I just know we’ll find him all right 
enough but I didn’t think it’d take so long.” And 
his voice, in spite of all he could do to control it, 
would tremble a little. “ Well, read over what he 
said again, will you? And then I’ll go to bed, 
for I’m that tired — ” 

“Of course you are,” sympathetically interrupted 
his grandfather, “ ’tain’t often you spend a night 
investigating a counterfeiter’s den and the next day 
telling the world about it, is it? No wonder you’re 
tired. A little disappointed, too, over this news, 
I guess. Well, now, this doesn’t sound so hopeless, 
after all, does it ? Listen ! ” And taking up the 
letter again the old man read : 

“ 4 1 landed all right in New York and went to 
the hotel you recommended. Don’t think so much 
of it as,’ — um-m-well, no use to read that all over 
again — ‘ went to the place in New Jersey and 
hunted ’round considerable before I discovered any- 
thing, and it’s my private opinion that I ain’t no 
more of a hayseed than those critters out there 
are, though they had considerable sport among them- 
selves, I guess, in calling me one. The only man 
who knew anything ’tall of interest to us was the 
former hired man of the defunct minister, and he 
didn’t know any too much. Howsumever, he said 
he used to write to Laura Green for some time 
after she buried the minister and moved out to 
Kansas. She owes him a letter now, he said, and 
has fer more’n two years and he guessed he wouldn’t 
bother ’bout her any more. If she wanted to keep 


254 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


company with him, she’d have to write oftener than 
that. And he’s seventy if a day. What do you 
think of that for Jersey lightning we hear tell so 
much about? Well, he giv’ me her address — 
Brown’s Mills, Kansas. He was civil ’nough but 
giv’ me Vermonters every time; and then I come 
along back to New York, skirmished ’round some, 
bought my ticket and set sail to-night. So, no 
more from, yours truly. If I have anything of 
importance to say in the future, will telegraph, like 
as not, for I don’t think much of this letter writing 
business, anyway. Excuse looks, therefore. My 
best regards to Jim and all inquiring folks. Your 
obed. serv., Samuel Evers, P. S. Tell Jim the 
big pig better be killed pretty soon and to set the 
speckled hen. She’s that foolish she allers wants 
to set in September.’ ” 

In spite of his disappointment Jim couldn’t help 
laughing at this letter ; then he tumbled into bed. 
He thought of Sam, faithful friend and servant, 
speeding away out West on his errand of love for 
the anxious old man in the next room, and then, 
planning of the letter he would send to him, telling 
him of all that had happened during his absence, 
the tired boy fell asleep. 

Very busy times followed. At the end of the 
fourth day a great deal had been accomplished. 
The new piazza was entirely finished. The remains 
of the fire were completely covered up and the 
ground rolled. The Italian road menders and some 
Polish miners from Proctor, out of employment, 


A LETTER FROM SAM 


255 


had been called into service again and had worked 
with such good will that marvels had been brought 
about by their hands. When Mr. Burton looked 
out of the back door and saw what had been done 
he was quite as pleased as was his grandson, and 
regretted the time that must pass before the paint 
would dry and make it possible to sit on the new 
porch. The campers, taking turns, had covered the 
new-made ground with sod and helped Mr. Jones lay 
a stone slab over the entrance to the counterfeiter’s 
cellar. Then they had tramped through the woods 
and marked certain trees for transplanting, when the 
right season came, on the front lawn between the 
house and the road. Jim and his grandfather had 
both asked them to do this because the space left 
by the old oak tree looked so bare and forlorn. 
“ Trees certainly help to make a house look more 
like a home,” thought Jim as he followed the men 
through the tortuous mazes of the forest. He 
wished he could stay with them all the time. What 
they did was not work but play to him. Yet he 
realized how neglected the little kitchen garden 
had been through all the past excitement, so he did 
his best to restore it to its uniform standard. He 
also helped a little in the farm work being done by 
those campers whose duty kept them in the fields 
instead of the woods. Once or twice he peeked 
into the laboratory. There, however, he was not 
at home. He did not understand how the students 
of chemistry and agriculture could help make farm- 
ing more practical, and he didn’t see much sense 


256 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


in looking at “ just common dirt through a micro- 
scope and weighing it as though it were gold.” 
When he openly expressed his opinion to Mr. Ly- 
ford, he was patted on the shoulder and told he’d 
“ profit by all these experiments some day ; that is, 
if he was going to be a farmer and live in the 
country. Was he?” 

That was a question Jim was turning over and 
over in his mind on the morning of the fifth day 
after the discovery of the secret room. He was 
driving Judge up the road to the pines and sat on 
the forward end of the load of timber left from the 
new piazza. This was to be used in building the 
shack for Gertrude and her mother. They were 
to come up later to choose the site for it, and then 
Jim and Skip were to be excused from all other 
work till it was finished. Skip was now in the 
village getting screws, nails, and some necessary 
tools for the work. The girls, aided by their 
mother, had already begun to make warm caps and 
sweaters and gloves for the cold September days 
which would soon be upon them. 

Would he stay in this quiet nook, way up in 
Vermont, and be a farmer? Jim thought of this 
again and then suddenly knew that he was no longer 
a little boy. He was fast growing up and soon 
would have to decide what he wanted to do, to 
be, in the future. That was something no one could 
decide for him. Yet it was a question that any 
one would be apt to ask him at any time, now. 
Why, Mr. Lyford had already asked him. And 


A LETTER FROM SAM 


257 


what had he said in response? That he did not 
know. What would he say to the next one who 
asked him? The same thing? 

“ I just bet I won’t,” thought Jim. “ I guess 
I’ll make up my mind what I’m going to be first; 
before any one asks me such a question again, I 
guess I’ll be ready for ’em; and then I can take 
my time ’bout answering ’em. But what do I want 
to do? Still go to hunt for my father ? Of course 
I do, but how can I leave grandpa, so helpless and 
depending more on me every day? That’s what’s 
bothering me now. How can I do both at the same 
time and — Jiminy! I guess I’ve got enough to 
think about right now, ’thout bothering over my 
future. But — I guess I do want to be something 
only I don’t just know what it is. Oh, hum! 
Well, go ’long, Judge, you old skeejeecks! Hurry 
up, now. You needn’t wink your ears that way. 
You can’t help me any. This is something I must 
work out myself. What am I going to do when I 
grow up ? ” 

Mr. Lyford’s chance remark had made a deep 
impression on Jim. He thought about it very so- 
berly for the rest of the day, and then, “put it in 
the back of his head ” to decide upon at some other 
time. It had long been his habit, when worried 
about anything, to put the question, whatever it 
was, away from him till he could have time to go up 
into the glen and think it all out. This habit had 
grown through the years of his lonely childhood. 
It did not occur to him now that his grandfather 


258 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

would have been happy and proud to talk such a 
matter over with him. If it had he would have 
gone to him at once and told him all his thoughts 
and feelings. His grandfather would have helped 
him. As it was, he quite naturally, as he had done 
before, planned to spend enough time the next day 
in the glen, before the work on the shack was be- 
gun, to make up his mind just what he wanted to 
do and be when he grew to be a man; and how 
to go about his choice of a profession right away; 
that is, if he could do so without leaving his grand- 
father. He did not realize that there was plenty 
of time in which to decide that very important 
matter, that very few fourteen-year-old boys knew 
to what they were to devote their future years, Jim 
went at this question, as he did at every other, as 
though it must be decided at once and forever, and 
then everything connected with it would be easily 
worked out. And he felt that now as always, 
a visit to the glen would help him. But the next 
morning, when he waked up, he knew at once he 
could not carry out his plan. 

It was raining. Of course, at first he was dis- 
appointed. He did love a quiet time alone with 
the rocks and trees. But crowding upon that 
thought came one of thankfulness that the long dry 
spell was over. He lazily stretched out in bed and 
threw his arms above his head and blinked at the 
ceiling while readjusting his mind to a new idea — 
a rainy day. What could be done, indoors, to pass 
the time pleasantly? It had been so long since 


A LETTER FROM SAM 


259 


the weather had interfered with his plans that it 
seemed queer to him that he could not do just as he 
wished. So for a short while longer he lay there 
in bed, listening to the gentle beating of the rain 
against the side of the house, and the drip, drip of 
the busy, hurrying drops as they spilled from the 
crook of the tin leader into the water-barrel at the 
corner of his room. The swaying branches of the 
maple tree rubbed against one another with a rasp- 
ing sound that indicated a rising wind. 

“ Goodness me,” thought the boy, now wide 
awake, as he jumped from the bed and ran to the 
window ; “ I bet the wind’s easterly and that we’re 
in for a three-days’ storm. Hum! Well, we 
oughtn’t to complain, all dried up as we are and 
I just bet that’s what we’ll get — three days of 
good hard rain. Don’t you think so, grandpa?” 
he said, speaking his thoughts out loud, as he caught 
up his clothes and danced into Mr. Burton’s room 
to dress. 

“ I guess that’s about the way of it, Jim,” agreed 
the man. “ I’m sure we’ve waited long enough for 
it, too, haven’t we? I shouldn’t , wonder, though, 
if we could be as busy as there’s any need of being, 
right here in the house while we’re waiting for 
things to clear up outside.” 

“ I s’pose we can, grandpa,” Jim answered. 
“ And say, can’t we rummage ’round in the closets 
and chests up in the carpenter’s shop and dress up 
in those old things up there?” 

“ Who, me ? ” Mr. Burton smiled rather sadly. 


260 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Yes, of course, grandpa,” replied the boy, “ if 
you’ll let us carry you up there again. But I was 
thinking mostly of Skip and myself and the girls, 
and — and, oh, grandpa, can we ? ” 

“We’ll see; we’ll see,” said Mr. Burton, who, 
carefully assisted by his deft grandson, was slowly 
making himself comfortable in his chair and ready 
for breakfast. “ But come, let’s get something to 
eat first and then we’ll attend to other things after- 
ward.” 

Jim, in his new and happy intimacy with his 
grandfather, had learned that the words, “ we’ll 
see,” meant almost always, “ yes,” so he whispered 
his expectations to the girls as they ate their break- 
fast together; nor were they disappointed. It was 
not long before they were racing happily upstairs 
anticipating a happy morning. 

They delved into the records of the past and 
tried to imagine the thoughts and feelings of those 
who long ago had died, but whose garments, faded 
and tender with age, still remained, a mute reminder 
of forgotten days. Skip brought the morning’s 
milk from his farm to Mrs. Lyford and Ellen, and 
then joined his friends who had great fun in dress- 
ing him up as a Colonial private, in the musty old 
uniform found in a dark corner of a closet. 

That stormy day and another passed’ happily 
away. The children masqueraded to their hearts’ 
content, and amused the older people in the evening 
with recitations and a little play composed on the 
spur of the moment by one of the college men. He 


A LETTER FROM SAM 


261 

wrote many funny things about the different mem- 
bers of the big family which were spoken with such 
vim by the enthusiastic actors, that the jokes were 
repeated almost daily the rest of the summer, and 
helped to draw still closer in friendly intimacy the 
different members of the household. Every one 
felt much better for this interlude in the midst of 
a hot and busy summer. When the rain was over 
and outdoor work was again taken up, one and all 
returned to their various tasks with renewed energy. 
Skip and Jim, looking very businesslike in their 
carpenter’s overalls, with their tools sticking out of 
their different pockets, started up through the glen 
to begin their work on the little house in the woods. 
Jim, perhaps, would not have so eagerly hurried 
away had he known what news, even then, was on 
its way to the farm for him. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


“ AND MR. LYFORD SAYS ” 

SUDDENLY Jim threw down his tools and 
^ straightened up; he looked across the saw- 
horse at Skip and said. “ I’m tired. Let’s quit.” 

“ ’Tain’t noon yet.” 

“ Don’t care, we’ve worked’s hard as we could 
ever since eight — and — there — hear the whistle ? 
’Tis twelve o’clock, after all. Come on, now, let’s 
eat and rest. I’m awful tired and hungry, an’ I bet 
you are, too.” 

The boys left the shadowy recesses of the fragrant 
pine grove and, sitting out on the sun-warmed 
rocks where the little brook fell over the edge of 
the cliff to the ravine below, opened their lunch 
boxes. Mrs. Lyford and Ellen had filled them full 
of many dainty things attractively done up in neat 
waxed paper parcels. The boys ate with a hungry 
relish and when thirsty rolled over on their stom- 
achs and drank from the ice-cold water of the 
brook. 

“ Nice up here, ain’t it? ” commented Skip. He 
had finished his lunch and was stretched at full 
length on the lichen-covered rocks, squinting up at 
the noon-high sun. “ And how you do love these 
262 


“ AND MR. LYFORD SAYS 


263 


trees,” he added, noticing his companion’s intense 
look as he turned to the grove behind them. “ Any- 
body’d think they were alive, the way you treat 
em. 

“ And so they are — to me,” Jim answered. 
“ They’re the best friends I’ve ever had in my life, 
I c’n tell you that.” 

“ Well,” laughed Skip, “ what’s the matter with 
me for a friend? Seems to me I ain’t so bad.” 

“ Oh, you’re all right,” agreed Jim, pelting the 
other with crackly pine cone's ; “ but the trees, they 
don’t answer back.” 

“ Gosh! Well, I can, thank goodness; you need 
some one to sass you, too, when you get up on 
your high horse. Guess if it wasn’t for me to take 
you down a peg or two, once in a while, there’d be 
no living with you ’tall,” Skip answered in his blunt 
way. “ But with me and the trees you’ll come out 
all right, I guess — give you time and me patience.” 

“ Thank you,” laughed Jim. He leaned over the 
brook and drank. Then sprawling out beside his 
friend he continued : “ Say, Skip, don’t you think 

this is the best summer we’ve ever had in all our 
lives? ” 

“ Uh-huh,” nodded Skip. “ And I just hate to 
see it go, don’t you ? ” 

“ Kind o’, but I’m so curious to see what’ll happen 
to the crops and trees and things the college fellers 
have been starting this year I c’n hardly wait for 
next summer to come ’round. Say, Skip, do you 
know that our hickory wood’s all going? ” 


264 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“Hickory! Going? Going where? What 
d’you mean, Jim? ” 

“ Why, all over the country we’re using it up 
faster than it grows.” 

“Well, what do you care? I guess the lack of 
it won’t bother us any, way up here in Vermont.” 

“ You selfish pig,” laughed Jim. And then he 
could not get out of the way fast enough for Skip 
rolled him over and over and back again, sending 
up in the warm air the scented breath of the pine 
needles and cones that covered the ground beneath 
them. However, as soon as he could free himself, 
he brushed his hand over his face and continued: 
“ Don’t you care ’bout anything ’cept what you need 
and want yourself?” 

“ ’Course I do, smarty. But I don’t see what old 
hickory wood’s got to do with us.” 

“ Well, I’ll tell you if you’ll stop grinning and be 
sensible. But I ain’t going to tell you things if 
you’re still bent on foolin’.” 

“ Go’n, Jim, I’m so sensible now, I’m msensible,” 
replied the other. He stretched on his back, pulled 
his cap over his eyes and folded his arms across his 
chest in such a mock resigned fashion that they 
both burst out laughing. And Jim, “ to be re- 
venged,” he said, wrestled with his friend till Skip 
was glad to cry “ enough ! I’m beaten and sensible 
enough now to listen to any old kind of a sermon; 
so fire away. I s’pose Mr. Lyford has been filling 
you full of all this hickory stuff you’re so anxious to 
unload on me. Eh?” 


“ AND MR. LYFORD SAYS ” 265 

“Yes; he and the others,” Jim replied. “Say, 
Skip, what an awful lot those fellers know.” 

“ Well, come on up in the shade and get rid of 
your share,” giggled Skip. “ I know you — you 
won't rest till you’ve made me learn something, too, 
you old sinner. I guess it won’t hurt me much 
either. So now, out with it.” 

“ Well,” began Jim, when the two, arms encir- 
cling knees, sat in the . shade of the stunted pine trees 
on the edge of the grove; “ ’tain’t any joke about 
this hickory business. It’s the best wood to burn 
in open fires there is, an’ we’ve been using it up like 
everything and not planting any more to take its 
place.” 

“ Plant trees? ” interrupted Skip; “ why, whoever 
heard of such a thing? ” 

“ Well, why shouldn’t they be planted, same’s 
anything else?” retorted Jim. 

“Why, I thought they just — just grew,” Skip 
haltingly replied. 

“ Well, of course they do,” Jim laughed in an- 
swer, “ but why shouldn’t they be planted and 
tended to just like any other crop, eh? Tell me 
that now.” And then, not waiting to be answered 
and still full of his subject, he continued, “ And if 
we keep on at the rate we are going now, Mr. 
Lyford says it won’t be long before we’ll use all 
our own, or domestic, hickory up. And then what ? 
For we can’t get it from any other country for some 
reason or other — think they don’t grow enough 
of it so’s they can spare any. Besides using it for 


266 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


firewood, it’s good for lots of other things, you 
know — cart wheels, barrel hoops, hammer handles, 
ax heads, and carriage bodies. So now you see 
how important ’tis that we don’t use it up faster’ n 
we grow it. So the college fellers have been study- 
ing the soil on our farm to see if it is the right kind 
to grow hickory in an’ they’re going to ’speriment 
with it. If it’s all right there’ll be a fine crop of 
it growing around here in a few years. Until lately 
people thought hickory’d only grow well farther 
south or west.” 

“ Crop — crop o’ trees,” mused Skip. “ Sounds 
kind o’ funny, doesn’t it? I thought crops just 
meant hay an’ oats an’ vegetables an’ — an’ other 
things.” 

“ So did I,” agreed Jim, “ before this summer. 
But I guess trees are ‘ the other things,’ ain’t they ? 
Mr. Lyford says that we’ve been wasting ’bout forty 
per cent, of cut hickory every year, too, that might 
have been put to some good use. When you come 
to think of it, don’t that seem awful? He says that 
he’s been trying for years to teach people how to 
take care of what grows out of the earth and to 
make ’em grow things better an’ more of ’em. He 
says he’s perfectly delighted with this farm because, 
’sides being in such a pretty country, the soil is so 
rich — never been worked over or spoiled or used 
up, in spite of what the old grannies down in the 
village think.” 

“ Did he call ’em f old grannies ’ ? ” laughed Skip, 
and then added, “ Well, p’raps he said that, all right, 


“ AND MR. LYFORD SAYS ” 267 

but the college fellers say they think the only future 
for Vermont is summer boarders and scenery.” 

“ Well, let ’em talk,” Jim good-naturedly an- 
swered; “I notice they just fall over one another 
trying to carry out Mr. Lyford’s ideas. And you 
know the slope of the mountain where they pitched 
their tents when they first came? Well, they’ve 
decided that just about there is the best place to 
start a tree nursery. They’re going to put pine 
seeds in there in the spring; and hickory, too, I 
guess, though I’m not sure ’bout that though I am 
about the pines. And then, in two years, they’ll 
transplant the little trees for keeps somewhere else, 
or sell ’em and send them away, if people want ’em. 
You know the wet spring is the time to transplant. 
They’re coming up next spring — ” 

“ Who, the seeds ? ” interrupted Skip, laughingly, 
“ or the college boys? ” 

“ The boys, of course, you ‘ smart Aleck,’ ” re- 
torted Jim, too much absorbed in his subject to be 
provoked, but he did manage to tip Skip over on 
his back again as he continued ; “ an’ the fellers’ll 
keep watch of the seeds as they sprout and weed 
’em out — the weak ones, you know — and in a 
few years will make thousands of dollars, whereas 
if left to Nature, the trees would only bring in as 
many hundreds.” 

“ That so? I want to know,” queried Skip, now 
so thoroughly interested that he no longer thought 
of fooling. “ I s’pose that’s the reason why they’ve 
been digging up the earth and mauling it so, all 


268 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


around here this summer. P’rhaps they do know a 
thing or two, after all. But I did think a city chap 
was foolish to come out to the country to teach us 
about our farms — the place where we’ve lived all 
our life.” 

“'Well, I thought so, too, Skip,” Jim replied, 
“ but I don’t any more. I tell you, these fellers and 
Mr. Lyford know more about things — the trees, 
for instance, in one week, than I c’n forget in a 
month of Sundays; but they don’t like ’em half 
so much, though, as I do.” He patted the bark of 
the tree against which he was leaning in an affec- 
tionate way but Skip did not pay attention. He 
wanted to hear more of what had been told to Jim. 

“ Go on,” he urged. “ What else d’you know ? ” 

“ Well, Mr. Lyford says that we have so much 
rain in this part of the State that — ” 

“ Huh,” scornfully interrupted Skip, “ ’spect me 
to believe that? Just look at this summer, driest 
we’ve about ever had.” 

“Well,” continued Jim, “ in spite of this dry sea- 
son, this is a moist part of Vermont. Mr. Lyford 
says that the records show ’tis. Lots of rain does 
fall here and because of that and the brook, our 
farm is a fine place to grow trees on, for you can’t 
have big trees and big crops of ’em without mois- 
ture. And Mr. Lyford says he’s going to recom- 
mend his college to cut out the regular farm work 
and just make this farm a forestry ’speriment sta- 
tion, because the soil, the climate and everything is 
so well suited to it. And if they do they’ll import 


“AND MR. LYFORD SAYS 


269 


trees from other countries, too. Won’t it be fun 
to watch ’em grow and study ’em? I s’pose they’ll 
be some different from our native trees.” 

“If I’m here,” Skip briefly commented, and Jim 
asked in surprise: 

“If you’re here? Why, where else would you 
be?” 

“ Why — if — say,” Skip blushed and stammered. 
Then he exclaimed, “ Say, Jim, were you in real 
earnest about dividing the reward ? ” 

• “Of course I was — and am. Why?” 

“ Well, pa and I were talking about it last night, 
and he says that if the detective comes and we do 
get the reward, that I must use my share of it for 
an education. He’ll double it and send me away to 
school.” 

“Cricky! Good for Mr. Jones,” cried Jim. 
“ Won’t you be glad to spend your reward that way? 
Get it ? Of course we’ll get that money. Ain’t the 
United States back of the offer? Don’t you believe 
in the word of the Government ? ” 

“ Yes, of course,” answered the other boy. “ But 
it somehow seems too good to be true.” 

“ Shucks,” laughed Jim, “ just you wait.” 

“ Well, I’m waiting all right,” replied his chum, 
“ and not worrying so awful much, either, but it 
does seem to me that the President of the United 
States is pretty slow about answering letters. We 
sent ’em almost a week ago.” 

“ Well, I s’pose he must have an awful big mail 
every morning to tend to, and p’rhaps he hasn’t 


270 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


reached our letters yet. They may be at the bottom 
of the pile.” 

“ Mebbe so. Well, what’ll you do with your 
money, Jim? Do you still mean to go and hunt 
for your father ? ” 

“ Nope. Not yet, ’tany rate,” the boy replied. 
“ I’ve got to stay right here and take care of 
grandpa. He comes first, now. It seems to me he 
gets feebler every day, and Ellen says he is getting 
to depend on me a lot. Ain’t it funny? I don’t 
do much for him, but he seems to like to have me 
around so I can’t think of going away; that is, not 
till Sam gets back. And then it may not be neces- 
sary. He may find — him , all right. Somehow, 
Skip, I just bet he will.” 

“ Have you heard from Sam lately ? ” 

“ Not since that last letter you and I got together. 
Wish I knew what he was up to this blessed 
minute.” 

“ So do I. But, say, Jim, I think you’re awful 
good to stay on here now you’ve got the money. 
Just think of how mean your grandfather used to 
be to you.” 

“ I don’t think of that any more ’tall,” thought- 
fully answered Jim. “ Honestly, Skip, I just love 
my grandfather now. We’re awfully good friends, 
and things are so much nicer now at home than they 
have ever been before, that I don’t want to go away. 
I feel as if I’d just begun to have a home. Well, 
it must be long after one o’clock. Shall we go back 
to work ? ” 


“ AND MR. LYFORD SAYS ” 


271 


“ No, let’s talk,” answered Skip, as he changed 
his position to a more comfortable one. “ I’m sure 
we worked hard ’nough this morning to take two 
hours off now. Tell me more ’bout the trees and 
things. It’s quite interesting, isn’t it?” 

“ I think so,” agreed Jim, and then he continued: 
“ Well, Mr. Lyford said,” but he got no further 
than that because Skip burst out laughing. 

“ ‘ Mr. Lyford says,’ ” he mimicked, “ ‘ Mr. Ly- 
ford says.’ ” 

“ Well, what does ‘ Mr. Lyford say ’ ? ” inter- 
rupted a deep, musical voice and, to the boys’ as- 
tonishment, Mr. Lyford himself came from among 
the trees and sat down between them. 

“ Why,” Skip exclaimed, “ Jim’s been telling me 
more’n a jug full of things ’bout the trees and things 
that you’ve taught him this summer, and ’bout every 
other word has been ‘ and Mr. Lyford says.’ ” 

The man laughed and then said, “ Well, I don’t 
know how much Jim has remembered and told you, 
Skip, but I am glad he has been interested in our 
work this summer, and I hope you will both be 
enough interested to watch its progress through the 
fall and winter. And, indeed, for some time to 
come. The fascinating thing about forestry to me 
is, that you can keep at it during all seasons. It 
can give you occupation for almost every day in 
the year. But now, what Mr. Lyford says is this,” 
he added, laughingly, “ I have inspected the work 
you have just done on the shack. You were so 
busy talking you did not hear me, I presume, for I 


272 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

have been browsing around for several minutes. 
And I think you’ve made a fine beginning. At this 
rate you’ll finish long before I thought you would. 
When the girls and their mother get all their 
cushions and bright rugs in it, it will be very cozy 
and cheerful. The tar paper tacked up on the out- 
side of the most exposed end, will keep the shack 
as warm and as free from the winds of winter as 
would a stone wall. Do you know, boys, that lum- 
ber for building purposes, though so plentiful here 
in this part of the country, is becoming very rare 
in general throughout the United States ? We must 
feel very proud of our little shack, that it’s all made 
of wood.” 

“ Didn’t think lumber was so scarce as all that,” 
commented Skip. He added more pine cones to 
the little pile Jim had already accumulated. “ Why 
haven’t people taken better care of the forests? ” 

“ That’s the question many of us are asking, now 
that it’s almost too late to repair the damages, 
Skip,” answered Mr. Lyford. “ And what we must 
do now is to work with all our might and main to 
make up as far as possible for our past mistakes 
and protect the future. Don’t you think so? ” 

“ Of course. Are you and the college boys try- 
ing to do that?” asked Skip, and when Mr. Ly- 
ford nodded “ yes,” the boy continued : “ And I’ve 

been thinking ’most all summer how long it’d be 
before you’d get tired, foolin’ round here, doing 
nothing that was worth while.” As he made this 
frank confession he looked rather ashamed, and was 


“ AND MR. LYFORD SAYS 


273 


relieved when Mr. Lyford treated it as a matter 
of course, saying, as he patted the boy’s shoulder : 

“ Well, you are not the only one who has thought 
the same thing — at first, but now that you know 
the motive that has urged us on, I hope you will 
think better of us.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Lyford,” Skip hastened to say, “ I 
never thought there was anything the matter with 
you and the fellers. It was only your work, and 
that was because I didn’t understand it.” 

“ Which only goes to show,” commented Jim 
wisely, “ that we shouldn’t judge from appearances. 
And now I s’pose we better get back to work. It 
must be all of two o’clock.” 

“Quite that,” said Mr. Lyford, consulting his 
watch ; “ yes, it’s quarter after. I thought it was 
about that time because I came right up from the 
dinner table. We missed you both,” he continued 
kindly, “ and you needn’t work any more on the 
shack to-day. In fact, I came up on purpose to get 
you , Jim, — for somebody at the house wants to 
see you.” 

“My father?” cried Jim, and every bit of color 
left his face. 

“ No, it’s Sam and he’s alone,” Mr. Lyford has- 
tily replied. “ I’m sorry I didn’t say so in the first 
place. I ought to have known better.” 

“ Oh, it’s all right,” cried Jim, He jumped to 
his feet and brushed the pine needles and “ spills ” 
from his clothes. “ And he may know all about 
my father, and that will be the next best thing to 


274 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

seeing him. I guess I’ll go back through the glen 
— it’s so much shorter. You don’t care, do you? 
For I s’pose you’ll come down the road, it’s easier 
walking.” 

Not waiting to be answered, he hurriedly started; 
then turning, he asked : “ Did Sam tell you any- 

thing, Mr. Lyford?” And when Mr. Lyford said 
that Sam had just arrived on the noon train, and 
had gone in to wash up and have dinner, and would 
wait for him before he told anyone anything, Jim 
literally ran down the steep and rocky side of the 
mountain in his anxiety to reach the trail through 
the glen, and so get back to the house as soon as 
possible. 


CHAPTER XXV 


NEWS 

A S Jim ran out of the rocky and tree-shaded 
entrance of the glen, he saw his grandfather 
and Sam sitting on the new porch. They were 
waiting for him. He stumbled across the meadow, 
easily vaulted the bars of the fence, and hurried 
over the new-made lawn to the steps. Up these 
he bounded and grasped the extended hand of the 
returned traveler. 

“ How do, Jim,” smiled the man. “ What’d you 
hurry fer so-, yer all het up. Wal, I’m back and — ” 

“ You needn’t say it,” interrupted the boy. “ I 
know you didn’t find him. I can just see it in your 
face.” 

“ You’re right, I didn’t,” replied Sam. 

Jim sat down on the top step and sunk his chin 
in his cupped hands. He moodily gazed toward the 
depths of the ravine, from which he had just come. 
But he wasn’t going back there. Even the trees 
couldn’t help him now. Besides, he wanted to hear 
Sam’s story. And Sam, rightly accepting the silent 
attitude of the boy and his grandfather as a re- 
quest for him to begin, said : 

“ Wal, I s’pose I might’s well tell it now an’ hev 
275 


276 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


it over with, an’ ’tain’t necessary fer me ter let yew 
both know how ’tarnal sorry I am it turned out jest 
this way.” He rested his hand sympathetically for 
a moment on Jim’s bowed head and then, hitching 
his chair closer to Mr. Burton’s, continued : 

“ I reached th’ place in Kansas all right, and 
managed ter find my man before I’d been in th’ 
place an hour.” 

“ But ’twasn’t a man, it was a woman you wanted 
to see,” interrupted Jim. 

“ Wal, ’twas this way,” Sam went on as though 
Jim had not spoken, “ Brown’s Mills is a no ’count 
place — don’t amount ter a hill o’ beans, so it didn’t 
take me long ter size up th’ hull town, an’ I figgered 
out I’d find what I wanted ter know in th’ store — 
thar warn’t but one — or I wouldn’t find out any- 
thin’ ’tall. The place wuz more’n half filled with 
folks an’ they wuz pretty much excited over some- 
thin’ er other, an’ as I see no one wuz a-goin’ ter 
pay any ’tention ter me I’d hev ter look out fer 
myself, an’ what do you suppose? The very fust 
man I spoke to wuz th’ doctor, an’ he wuz about 
ter take down th’ last, dying words of th’ very one 
I wuz lookin’ fer. Course then no one knowed 
’twas her last words, but they turned out ter be so.” 

“ What! ” cried Jim, and his grandfather, though 
he said nothing, looked as startled as did the boy. 

“ Yep, jest as I said,” Sam replied. “ She’d 
hed a ‘ stroke,’ right in th’ store, not more’n half 
an hour before, an’ they hed fixed her as comfort- 
able as they could while they’d sont fer the doctor, 


NEWS 


277 

who’d come in jest before I got thar. Of course, 
when I told what I wuz there fer, I added ter th’ 
excitement, I c’n tell yew an’ ’twas some time later 
when we got th’ folks cleared out, an’ went into 
th’ back room whar she wuz a-lyin’ on a sofy. 
’Nother woman wuz a-setting by. I tuk a chair jest 
inside th’ door whar she couldn’t see me, but whar 
I could hear what she said. It appears she sont 
fer th’ doctor ter ease her mind, she said, and not 
ter make a confession, though seems ter me th’ 
difference between th’ two is mighty like splittin’ 
hairs. Howsumever, this is what she said. And, 
Mr. Burton, when I heard it, I like ter went 
through th’ floor then an’ there ! In th’ fust place, 
her name wuzn’t Laura Green. It wuz Laura 
Greenough.” 

“ Oh, cricky, Sam,” again interrupted Jim, “ you 
don’t really mean it? Was she any relation to — ” 

“ Job Greenough? ” hastily interposed the man in 
the wheel chair, leaning forward in his interest and 
squeezing the hand Jim held up to him ; and they 
both looked their almost incredulous belief when 
Sam nodded and said : 

“ Yes, siree, that’s jest who she wuz. Job 
Greenough’s sister.” 

“ Do you know, has anyone told you about the 
secret room, and all that’s been going on here since 
you went away? ” questioned Jim hastily. 

“ Yes,” answered the man. “ Mr. Jones told me 
driving up from the station, an’ I wuz ’bout as sur- 
prised as you are now. An’ since I’ve been a-settin’ 


278 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


here, Eve been a-usin’ of my eyes some, tew. Wal, 
ter go on. This Laura Greenough, years ago, when 
old man Crooker wuz alive, found out all ’bout th’ 
counterfeiters. Her brother Job used ter send 
money to her. Yer see, Mr. Burton, she wuz nigh 
onto your age, er mebbe a year er two younger, an’ 
she wuz lazy an’ didn’t like ter work. When she 
found out by accident, one day when Job wuz at 
their old home, a-visitin’ her, what wuz a-doin’ an’ 
whar his money, thet he wuz a-makin’ so fast, cum 
from, she threatened ter tell on him, less he sup- 
ported her. Wal, he done so, jest hed ter, you see^ 
till he disappeared, an’ then th’ false money jesr 
naturally stopped cornin’, and Laura, who’d been 
a-takin’ it purty easy, hed ter go ter work again. 
An’ she didn’t dare ter make any fuss about findit^ 
him, nor tell on him, neither, fer she wuz afraid 
people’d find out she’d been passin’ bogus money 
when she knew ’twas bogus. She said, too, she 
kep’ a hopin’ all th’ time ’at he’d turn up again. 
But he didn’t, an’ she had ter go ter work agin, 
an’ I guess from what she said, she wuz madder’n 
a hornet. Wal, after doin’ fust one thing’n an- 
other, an’ driftin’ from place ter place, she found 
herself at last earnin’ an honest livin’ as housekeeper 
ter th’ minister. I guess it must hev surprised her 
some ter find herself a-doin’ of it, tew. It wuz th’ 
minister who’d married yer pa an’ ma, Jim. Curi- 
ous how things come ’round in this world, ain’t it ? 
Course she didn’t know that, an’ hed never heard 
him speak of yer pa. But he cum ter see th’ min- 


NEWS 


279 

ister one day, an’ after he’d made arrangements 
with him ter act as go-between fer any letters or 
sich, he went off. Th’ minister told Laura all 
erbout it ; an’ then she, of course, knew in a minute 
thet it wuz th’ Burtons of th’ counterfeiter’s house. 
Yer grandpa hed told yer pa, Jim, th’ story of th’ 
counterfeiters an’ th’ reward out fer th’ missin’ one 
an’ all erbout it, an’ yer pa told th’ hull story ter 
th’ minister, along with yer pa’s other troubles. An’ 
th’ minister bein’ a sociable kind o’ soul, an’ likin’ 
his housekeeper, up an’ told her all th’ yarn as ’twas 
y ^elated ter him. An’ you’d hev thought, that after 
th’ years thet hed passed since th’ other counter- 
feiters had been discovered an’ Job hed disappeared, 

« et she w^ould have kind o’ softened in her mind 
ward him, wouldn’t you? Not a bit of it. . . . 
She wuz bitter’n a lemon an’ raked up th’ old, bad 
thoughts all over agin. But of course she never 
let on ter th’ minister who she wuz an’ he never 
suspicioned anything, being a simple-hearted, honest 
man, and she a good cook and careful housekeeper. 
He trusted her more an’ more. Finally when he 
wuz took sick, he told her ter do all she could ter 
make peace between th’ two Burtons, father an’ 
son. She promised, th’ minister soon after died an’ 
— you know what she did? Kep’ th’ money Jim’s 
father begun ter send home, burned his letters ter 
Mr. Burton an’ wrote t’ him thet his father hed hed 
a stroke. Wasn’t she th’ limit? She said she 
guessed Mr. Burton, fer all he pretended ter be so 
innocent, wuz one of th’ counterfeiters all right, 


28 o THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


an’ she hed as much right ter his son’s money as he 
hed. More, in fact, for why hedn’t Mr. Burton 
told his son whar Job wuz. Then of course he’d 
a told th’ minister an’ th’ minister would hev told 
her — an’ in that way she would have found her 
brother. That wuz th’ way she reasoned it all out 
so as ter keep th’ money that began to come ter th’ 
minister ter be forwarded here. Can you beat her 
fer a female reasoner? Wal, Jim, when yer pa got 
her letter sayin’ yer grandpa’ d hed a stroke thet 
he’d never hed, he sont her a big money order for 
her ter use ter come here with, so as she could write’* 
him just how things wuz with you both, an’ let him 
know all about things. Then, not content with that, 
he sont her a letter to bring to his father — here 
it is, unopened, you see, and this is the only one 
of th’ lot that Laura Green kept. She sed she’d 
burned th’ others as fast as they’d come — an’ she’d 
read ’em. An’ th’ only reason she’d not read this 
one as well, wuz, th’ size of th’ money order that 
come with it kind o’ scared her, an’ she didn’t dare 
to. So she sont th’ money order back an’ here’s th’ 
letter.” 

Sam awkwardly took a soiled and worn sealed 
envelope from his pocket, and handed it to' Mr. 
Burton. As the old man tenderly held it between 
his shaking fingers, he said, “ Well, we’ll read it 
afterward. Finish your story first, Sam.” 

“ Wal, I’m most done, Mr. Burton,” responded 
the man, clearing his throat and beginning anew. 

“ Thar ain’t much more to tell. Th’ size of thet 


NEWS 


281 


money order, as I said, jest now, frightened her, 
an’ then he’d also writ her thet he’d be a-follerin’ 
it as soon’s he could. She didn’t know jest what 
to do. So, after thinkin’ things over pretty hard 
fer a day or two, she sont back th’ money order an’ 
wrote him thet his father had died. And thet Jim 
hed, too. It wuz pneumonia what took him off, she 
sed. Now I jest ask you agin, did you ever see 
any one ter equal her? Don’t she beat th’ Dutch, 
Mr. Burton? I’d never hev believed it, never, if I 
hedn’t heard th’ story with my own ears. As ’twas, 

I almost doubted ’em then. Wal, your son wrote 
her one more letter. He asked her ter come here 
an’ live on this farm — ter repay her for her trouble 
in forwardin’ th’ letters an’ so forth — while he 
wuz away on an important business trip, an’ as soon 
as he got back he’d see what else he could do ter 
make her future comfortable. She wrote him thet 
she couldn’t jest then see her way clear ter do so, 
but would hope ter come some time in th’ future. 
Thet wuz th’ last letter she wrote ter him, and he 
never answered it. Now, I ask yer agin, d’you 
ever — ” 

“ No, I never did,” interrupted Mr. Burton, “ I 
certainly never did, Sam. Just to think, she a sister 
of Job! And to allow the love of ill-gotten gain 
to warp her soul as it did! Well, well, this only 
goes to show how far reaching the consequences of 
sin are, doesn’t it? And how often the innocent 
have to suffer for the deeds of the guilty. My poor 
son! To think that the counterfeiter’s misdeeds 


282 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


should have resulted in such unhappiness and suffer- 
ing to him — and to all of us.” 

“ Well, grandpa,” cried Jim, “ I can forgive ’em 
everything they ever did, every one of ’em, for 
haven’t we now found out that my father wanted 
to come home? It wasn’t his fault that he stayed 
away, was it? Not for all this long time, I mean. 
For he was waiting to hear from you to tell him 
he could — I bet he was homesick, too.” The boy 
swallowed hard and winked very fast, while Sam 
suggested : 

“ Suppose you read his letter, Mr. Burton.” 

“ I — I — can’t,” quavered the old man. “ You 
do it, Jim.” He handed the envelope to the boy 
who tore it open and read in a low, shaky voice, 
the few following lines : 

“ ‘ My dear Father, to think that my angry de- 
parture and my foolish silence may have helped to 
cause your illness, cuts me to the heart. Will you 
forgive me? And may I come back? I am sorry, 
and heartily wish to atone to you and my son for 
my long absence from home. I send this letter, 
as usual, in Laura Green’s care, for the postmaster 
at the village says you have refused to accept my 
letters addressed to the farm. And I must be sure 
you get this for I want to come home. Your affec- 
tionate son, James. P. S. Kiss little Jim for me.’ ” 

Jim handed the letter back to his grandfather, 
looked up at him with quivering lips for a second, 
and then hid his face on the old man’s knees. It 
was very quiet now on the new parch, no one was 


NEWS 


283 

stirring within the house, and abroad all nature 
seemed to be resting in the hazy quiet of a beau- 
tiful September afternoon. After an embarrassed 
pause, Sam laboriously got out of his chair and 
started to go indoors. He wanted to leave the two 
disappointed ones together ; but Mr. Burton detained 
him. 

“ Wait a moment, Sam,” he said. “ What hap-- 
pened to — to the woman? ” 

“ Ter Laura Green-er-Greenough ? ” Sam replied. 
“ She hed another stroke an’ died thet night. Curi- 
ous how things turn out, ain’t it? My bein’ there 
didn’t hasten her end any, ’cause she never knew 
I wuz thar. I wuz rather inclined to worry ’bout 
it till th’ doctor told me thet it wuz th’ reaction 
caused by her confession or whatever you’re a mind 
to call it, thet brought on th’ other stroke. So she’d 
hev gone anyway, an’ seems ter me my getftin’ thar 
jest when I did, right in th’ nick of time, wuz sus- 
piciously like a divine intervention of Providence. 
Wal, thet’s all I’ve got ter say, ’cept this, Mr. Bur- 
ton. I guess what we’ve got to do now, in order 
to find your son, is to advertise fer him. Don’t 
you think so? ” 

“ I don’t know, Sam. I don’t know,” wearily 
answered the old man. He passed his shaking 
hands across his eyes in a bewildered way. “ Your 
story has upset me so I’m all at odds and ends. 
I don’t know what to say because I must confess 
that, with Jim, I was convinced you’d find him.” 
Pie looked down at his grandson as if for com- 


284 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


fort, and Jim, trying hard to be cheerful, said: 

“ Well, grandpa, I bet we will yet, so don’t you 
give up. I am sure I shan’t. It’s good to know 
that he was sorry for the quarrel he had with you, 
and now that he wants to come home — ” 

“ But now he doesn’t, Jim,” interrupted Mr. Bur- 
ton, “ for he thinks we’re both dead, and he has 
kited around so that he may be at the ends of the 
earth for all we know, and we can’t tell where to 
even begin to look for him.” 

“ Well,” stoutly affirmed Jim, “ he knows the 
farm’s here and that it belongs to him. And that 
letter saying we were both dead was written ’bout 
two years ago, for the date on this one from him 
to Laura Green, is dated that far back, so I don’t 
believe it’ll be very long now before he’ll be coming 
home to see to things. He’ll be wanting to look 
after his property.” 

“ I hope so ; oh, I hope so,” murmured the old 
man. 

“ I guess that’s jest about what he will do, tew,” 
commented Sam. “ ’Tain’t likely he’d be willing ter 
let things go ter rack and ruin ; queer he ain’t never 
written ter me er anybody else that’d be interested, 
ain’t it?” 

“ I wonder what his business is, anyway,” mused 
Jim, “ that takes him traveling all about so; must be 
awfully exciting.” 

“ Well, I do wish he’d hurry up and come home,” 
said Mr. Burton, “ for my time’s getting so short 

if 


now. 


NEWS 


285 


“ Oh, now, Mr. Burton,” cried Sam, trying to be 
reassuring, “ don’t you say that. Ain’t you a-gettin’ 
stronger every day? ” But, though he pretended to 
make light of his old friend’s anxiety, in reality he 
shared it, and was more despondent over the out- 
come of his Western trip than he would admit. In 
spite of this, however, both he and Jim tried so 
bravely to cheer the invalid up and bring back his 
hopeful spirits, that before long they succeeded in 
restoring him to his usual patient, if not happy, atti- 
tude. Mr. Lyford and Skip, coming toward them 
from the mountain road, just then, proved a wel- 
come diversion for, of course, they had to be told 
the news, and their surprise and hopeful expecta- 
tions of a happy ending to the search for the miss- 
ing father, which still must be continued, Mr. Ly- 
ford said, so buoyed up Mr. Burton’s spirits, that 
not till he and Jim were getting ready for bed at 
night did he begin again to doubt the possibility 
of once more seeing his longed-for son. 

“ Don’t know of any reason why he should come 
back, now that he thinks we’re both gone,” he re- 
peated for the fourth or fifth time, and poor Jim, 
worried and saddened himself, had hard work to 
answer his grandfather cheerfully. Yet he man- 
aged to do so, and at last the tired old man realized 
that, wrapped up in his own disappointment, he had 
selfishly neglected Jim. Then he said, kindly, look- 
ing affectionately at the boy, “ And I’m sorry, 
awfully sorry for you, too, Jim. For I s’pose you 
banked on Sam’s finding him, same’s I did.” 


286 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ I most certainly did, grandpa,” answered Jim, 
gulping down a sigh, “ but I’ve kind o’ got over 
it, already, I guess, for I just can’t help feeling 
that he’ll come home. I don’t give up yet and I 
don’t want to, either. I wish you’d feel better about 
it” 

“ Well, you must remember, my boy, that I can’t 
wait so very much longer for anything to happen, 
no matter what, for I’m an old man, living on bor- 
rowed time, now.” 

“ Not a bit of it,” stoutly contradicted Jim. 
“ Where’s all your courage gone, grandpa? Why, 
’twasn’t so very long ago you said you were going 
to walk, and everything like that. And now, here 
you are, giving right up ’cause the news Sam brought 
back wasn’t what you wanted him to bring. We 
didn’t have any reason to expect things would turn 
out our way ’cept that we were so awful anxious to 
have ’em.” 

“ You’re right, Jim; you’re right,” slowly an- 
swered the man. “ But I guess I’ve kind of lost 
my grip.” 

“Well, you mustn’t do that, grandpa, any more 
than you can help,” Jim murmured; a moment of 
thoughtful silence passed. Then he added, shyly, 
“ And you’ve got me.” 

“ Yes, I know, and I do thank the Lord for that,” 
answered the man, fervently, “ and if you have to 
be both son and grandson to me for the rest of my 
days, I ought not let another complaining word come 
out of my mouth. And I won’t, so there! But 


NEWS 287 

I am shaky about your future, Jim. Whatever is 
to become of you after I am gone ! ” 

“ I don’t see why you need worry about that, 
grandpa? I’m sure I don’t,” laughed Jim. 

“ Well, I do, my boy. This farm’s about all 
played out and — ” 

“ I don’t believe what you say about the farm, 
grandpa,” interrupted the boy, “ just remember what 
Mr. Lyford says about it; and you ain’t gone yet, 
either.” 

“ I know that, Jim,” smiled Mr. Burton, amused 
at Jim’s earnestness, “ but it’s against nature that 
I should last very much longer. And do you know 
what I make myself think of? Why am I like a 
grasshopper found in the fall ? ” 

“ Why, I don’t know, grandpa. Why are you ? ” 
Jim asked. 

“ Because there’s nothing left but the chirp.” 

“ Oh, grandpa, if you ain’t the funniest,” laughed 
Jim. And in spite of their disappointment which 
Sam’s report had brought, they went to bed cheer- 
I fully. 

Mr. Burton, tired out with the day’s unwonted 
excitement, fell asleep at once. Jim, however, un- 
consciously kept himself awake, as he puzzled again 
and again over the question : “ What can be done 

now toward finding my father? Will Mr. Lyford 
be able to help me?” It was long after the late 
evening brooded over the house before the boy, 
perplexed and unhappy, the question still unsolved, 
at last closed his eyes in a troubled sleep. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


IN THE GLEN 

J IM did not rest well that night. Before he fell 
asleep he tossed about a good deal, and finally, 
in the early morning, after many “ cat naps,” found 
himself wide awake. Knowing that he could not 
get to sleep again and feeling, as he afterward told 
Skip, “ all snarled up in his mind,” he resolved to 
steal away to the glen and get straightened out. 
He slipped quietly from the house, and running 
lightly across the road, plunged in the pool, now 
deep and clear again, below the bridge. The water 
was stinging cold, and the early morning air had 
an autumn tingle in it that soon told him he’d bet- 
ter rub himself down vigorously and get into his 
clothes as quickly as he could, or he’d never be 
warm again. Then, refreshed and hungry, he paid 
a visit to Ellen’s spotless pantry and ate a hearty 
breakfast from the well-laden shelves. The quiet 
of the big house seemed to rebuke the least noise 
he made. He was also afraid he might awaken 
some of the sleepers upstairs and have an unwel- 
come companion — because he wanted to be alone 
to-day — so he was as quiet as he could be, and in 
a few minutes, with fishing rod over his shoulder, 
and his pockets filled with bread, cheese and cake, 
288 


IN THE GLEN 


289 


to serve for his midday meal, he hurried out of 
the back door and over the dew-wet lawn to the 
glen. A hastily scrawled note to his grandfather, 
left at his place on the breakfast table, told where 
he had gone, and assured him a quiet, solitary day, 
quite free from interruptions. Consequently, he 
could think things over to his heart’s content, and 
straighten many tangles — all those perplexing ques- 
tions which had been growing bigger and bigger for 
many days, and which had kept him so long awake 
in the night. 

Many a cranny in the rocky walls, or a topmost 
branch in a tall tree, long neglected, received a visit 
from him that day. The still reaches of the brook 
or the little, dancing waterfalls, mirrored his 
thoughtful face. Several squirrels and birds, 
startled at his unexpected return, scampered and 
flew away at his approach, and the old trout, which 
had been unsuccessfully angled for at intervals all 
summer, was so surprised at Jim’s visit to his own 
special, shady pool, that he allowed himself to be 
caught; or, rather, he couldn’t help himself! Jim 
made a fire on a flat rock and cooked it for his 
dinner, and ate it with the bread and cheese. Some 
wild blackberries, growing in a sunny clearing, 
made, with the cake, the very nicest kind of dessert. 
Then Jim, tired and sleepy, curled up on a mossy 
bed at the foot of a protecting, low-spreading tree, 
through whose leafy branches the warm sun flick- 
ered down on him in warm, mellow light, and went 
to sleep. 


290 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


He slept till Mother Nature told him he had made 
up for all the time he had lost the night before ; and 
when he opened his eyes and looked around him, 
Jim also realized that he had gotten the best of all 
his worries and troubles. They were now behind 
him. He felt that he knew what was the best 
thing for him to do, so he was once more happy and 
contented. 

When the afternoon shadows began to creep over 
the land again, and he reluctantly climbed down 
from the big pine tree and slowly walked along the 
trail toward the house, he saw Mr. Lyford coming 
to meet him. 

The boy’s unhappy expression of the evening be- 
fore had haunted Mr. Lyford all day. He could 
not forget it or how unhappy Jim must be over the 
news brought home by Sam. So, as soon as he 
could leave his laboratory work, he had started after 
the lad, thinking perhaps he might be able to say 
a word of cheer, or propose some plan regarding 
the finding of his father that would make him feel 
a little less unhappy. And now here was the boy, 
so far as any one could judge, happy, contented, and 
full of cheer himself. It wasn’t necessary to say 
a word of comfort to him! Then Mr. Lyford re- 
membered what the doctor had told him about Jim’s 
great affection for the trees, and he wondered no 
longer. 

“ Hullo, Jim,” he said pleasantly, “ I came out to 
meet you.” 

“ Anything wrong with grandpa? ” quickly asked 


IN THE GLEN 


291 


the boy, a troubled look for a moment casting a 
shadow over his face. He walked a little faster. 

“ Oh, no; everything’s all right. Ellen and Mrs. 
Lyford are getting supper, and Mr. Burton’s taking 
a nap. So, as my work’s done for the day, I 
thought I’d take this opportunity of talking a few 
things over with you where we could be by our- 
selves. Shall we sit down on this log? We can 
hear the supper bell all right from here, I guess. 
Well, Jim, what are you going to do this winter? ” 
“ Why, I don’t know,” answered Jim. “ Stay 
right here at home, go to school, look after grandpa 
and help Sam as much’s I can with the farm work 
just the same’s usual, I guess. Of course you 
know that I wanted to do something else quite dif- 
ferent, but — ” and here his lip quivered a little — 
“ I s’pose that’s all up now.” 

“ Well,” Mr. Lyford continued, “ you know it 
won’t be long now, before we’ll be going back to 
college, and I’m more or less worried about leaving 
our work in just the condition it’s in without some 
one here who understands to- look after things. 
Would you like to be our college representative, 
look after our work on the farm, send us in a 
weekly report, and receive a salary for your time 
and advice ? ” 

Jim gave a long, low, surprised whistle. “ Well, 
I want to know, Mr. Lyford,” he cried. “ I never 
thought of such a thing. Gee! But I’d like to do 
it ! Do you s’pose I can ? ” 

“ If I hadn’t thought you could,” replied the 


292 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

other, amused at the boy’s earnestness, “ I wouldn’t 
have mentioned it. It seems to me that you answer 
our requirements fairly well — as to the slight, nec- 
essary knowledge of forestry, I mean — and you 
are already here, sort of Johnny-on-the-spot. That 
helps a lot, you know, not to have to hunt around 
for some one to tramp the woods in winter. And 
then, and this is quite as important, I think you 
will be glad and willing to do it.” 

“Glad! Willing!” sighed the boy. “I guess 
those ain’t exactly the words I’d use, and yet I just 
can’t find the ones I want, to tell you how happy I 
am to think I know ’nough to help. Perhaps,” he 
added, “ you think I know more’n I really do.” 

“ I guess not,” laughed Mr. Lyford. “ We don’t 
require great depth of wisdom, Jim. I guess you 
know enough about the trees on this farm for all 
practical purposes, and your duties would not inter- 
fere with your school or what your grandfather or 
Sam might require of you. I have talked the mat- 
ter over with Mr. Burton, and he is perfectly will- 
ing that you should become a member of the 
Vermont State College Forestry Department, with 
all its responsibilities and privileges,” 

“ My, how grand that sounds,” giggled Jim. “ I 
guess that’s almost too grand for me, ain’t it?” 

“ Oh, no, I think not,” replied his friend. “ Now, 
this is what you’d have to do. Or first, suppose 
you tell me just how you spend your winters up 
here. How much free time do you have ? ” 

“Me? Free time?” laughed Jim. “Well, not 


IN THE GLEN 


293 


much, I can tell you. I guess I wouldn’t know 
just what to do with it if I was to see any, it would 
be such a surprise. School begins next week, you 
know, and this year Skip and I are to go to the 
academy in the village so we’ll have to leave home 
’bout half past seven o’clock in order to get there 
on time. We’ll take our lunch. School opens at 
half past eight, and closes at three. It’ll be four 
when we’ll get home. Then I’ll do the ‘ chores,’ 
which takes till supper time, and after that I’ll study 
till I go to bed. ’Twon’t be what you’d call a real 
amusin’ winter, will it? But it’ll be much more 
fun going to the academy than to the little school 
up here at the crossroads. Only, I don’t see, Mr. 
Lyford, just where I’m going to squeeze in any time 
for you and the college, do you ? ” 

“ Do you plan to ride to school? ” 

“ No, only on rainy days.” 

“ What will Sam be doing in the afternoon when 
you are busy with the ‘ chores ’ ? ” 

“ Why, I don’t know exactly. There’s always 
things to do around a farm, you know. We’re al- 
ways busy. Of course last year he and grandpa did 
the farm work: plowing for the spring crops, 
clearing up the fields, picking over the apples and 
vegetables, and all the rest of the usual work, as 
well as cutting and hauling wood, and mending the 
farm buildings, and so on. I helped some, too. 
But now that grandpa’s laid up, and the college has 
taken over the farm, or the most of it, that kind 
o’ lets Sam out, doesn’t it ? ” 


294 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ Yes, it does. Our college boys will see to what 
little farming we intend to carry out for experi- 
mental purposes, and we are planning to include 
your small amount of farming with it. The men 
will board either with you or Mr. Jones, so Sam 
won’t have anything of that kind to do this winter. 
He and your grandfather and I have figured it out 
this way. Sam will do all the ‘ chores ’ and what 
little work there is to be done about the house ; the 
kitchen garden, also, he will attend to. So when 
you return from school you can devote the rest of 
the afternoon and the early morning to your for- 
estry work. Judge will belong to you. You can 
ride to and from school every day. And your prin- 
cipal says you can easily prepare your next day’s 
lessons in the study hours at school. He will ar- 
range your schedule on purpose. Judge ought to 
get you here from school in half an hour, don’t you 
think so? ” 

“ Oh, yes, and even in less time than that. Gee, 
Mr. Lyford, you’ve planned it all out for me, haven’t 
you ? ” 

“ Of course, you know, Jim, you don’t have to 
do this unless you want to.” 

“ Well, I guess if you hadn’t been pretty sure of 
me, you wouldn’t have taken so much pains to ar- 
range things so’s I could work for you,” laughed 
Jim. “ And I’m just crazy to do it. When can I 
begin? ” 

“ We go back to college in three days,” replied 
Mr. Lyford. “ But the girls and their mother will 


IN THE GLEN 


295 


stay up here till little Gertrude is a great deal bet- 
ter than she is now. I feel sure she is going to gain 
health and strength in that splendid pine grove of 
yours. And I am sure the rent I shall pay you will 
bring me in more returns for the money spent than 
any I have ever received for anything. Incidentally, 
this money, Jim, added to the salary you will draw 
as a forestry commissioner, and the reward you ex- 
pect from Washington, will be a fine nest egg to- 
ward a college education. Have you thought of 
that ? ” 

“Yes,” answered the boy soberly, “I have 
thought about it a lot, but I don’t much expect to 
use any money for that purpose for a long time to 
come. How can I leave home now? Think of 
how awful lonesome my grandfather’d be without 
me. 

“ Of course you can’t go now, my boy,” Mr. Ly- 
ford agreed. “ But when the time comes that you 
can, I’m very glad that you’ll have some money to 
start out on. Well, to go back to our plans. I’ll 
'stay on here, though the fellows will not, till the 
first of October. And I expect that I will be able 
to introduce you so well to your duties between 
now and then, that you can plan to draw your salary 
from that date. Now for your duties, and I hope 
you will always spell that word with a capital D. 
No other word better deserves it. It will be largely 
patrol duty, Jim. I suppose you realize, as we all 
do, that the foreign element — the Poles and the 
Slovaks and the Silicians and the rest of the quarry 


296 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

men who live over near Proctor, are in the habit of 
cutting their firewood from your grandfather’s 
woods. 

“ Realize it?” laughed Jim. “Well, I should 
think I did. Haven’t we had more trouble with 
’em for that very thing than you could shake a 
stick at ? ” 

“ Well,” Mr. Lyford continued, “ that practice 
must be stopped, or the men will trample upon and 
kill the young trees we’ve planted, or will cut the 
wrong wood, and there is always more or less dan- 
ger of fires from their cigars or from the coals of 
the fires they build to cook their dinners by.” 

“ That’s all true as gospel,” agreed Jim, “ but 
nothing new to us, Mr. Lyford. We’ve always 
known all about this. The question is, how are you 
going to stop ’em ? ” 

“ Well,” Mr. Lyford smilingly replied, “ we are 
counting a good deal on you, our forest ranger.” 

“ Me ! ” cried Jim. “ How can / stop ’em ? ” 

“ Catch them first, if you can, and talk to them 
on the spot, if they’ll listen, which I very much 
doubt. If they won’t, follow them home and talk 
to them there. If they refuse to heed what you 
say, and you must try to explain why we don’t want 
and can’t have the wood cut, report them to the 
sheriff, who’ll then attend to them. Of course, you 
know in each instance you must be very careful to 
get the right name of the one you want.” 

Jim gasped. “ I guess you don’t know what a 
tough lot of customers those foreigners are, Mr 


IN THE GLEN 


297 


Lyford,” he said. “ And besides that, they don’t 
know beans. Like as not they wouldn’t understand 
half I said.” 

“ But they do know wood,” laughed the other, 
“ and they must be taught to respect other people’s 
property.” 

“ That’s so,” Jim answered. “ Well, I under- 
stand that part of my work all right. What else’ll 
I have to do? ” 

“ Thin out brush and dead trees, and drag the 
wood to the nearest clearing so it can be burned 
and chopped up for firewood. Get the foreigners 
to cart away the brush, and to pay you for the 
fagots. Not that you need the money, but they 
must be made to realize that they must earn their 
living. We cannot pauperize this element that is 
settling in our dear, old New England. We cannot 
allow them to think that ‘ findings are keepings.’ 
They must learn to be honest.” 

“ Why, Mr. Lyford, I didn’t think that forestry 
meant all that ! ” 

Mr. Lyford laughed at the boy’s astonishment. 
“ It not only means that, Jim, but a great deal more. 
You’ll be learning something new and interesting 
every day.” 

“ And then what else’ll I have to do? ” 

“ Well, the State forester is very much interested 
in the reports we have sent him of this county and 
this ravine in particular. He hopes we may be able 
to persuade your grandfather to sell it to the State 
for a reservation. With this end in view, he will 


298 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


come here before very long to map out a plan to 
improve the landscape, and at the same time retain 
the natural beauties of the forest and watershed. 
He will want you to act as guide. I don’t suppose 
any one else around here knows these woods so well 
as you do, Jim? ” 

“ Well, I’d just like to meet him, if there is any 
such person,” laughed Jim. “ Why, Mr. Lyford, 
I bet I know more about the trees and the woods in 
this ravine, and in the whole township, for that 
matter, than any other two boys or men, either, 
put together. I don’t want you should think I’m 
blowing my own horn too much, Mr. Lyford, but 
when it’s a question of this farm and the woods 
back of it, any way, why I just know what I’m talk- 
ing about, and no mistake.” 

“ I’m sure of that, too, Jim,” Mr. Lyford re- 
plied, “ and haven’t we studied your attitude toward 
our work very carefully all summer ? ” 

“No; have you?” questioned the boy, in great 
surprise. “ Why, I want to know ! I never 
thought you were doing that.” 

“ Well, we have, and as a result we are only too 
glad to offer you this position. Of course the 
things you will be expected to do will not all come 
together. Days at a time may pass without anything 
to do, and then you may be called upon to do many 
things in quick succession. So you must always be 
in a state of readiness. You must remember that. 
Always have your equipment in first-class condi- 
tion.” 


IN THE GLEN 


299 


“ Oh, of course, Mr. Lyford. I’ll do that all 
right. I s’pose the State forester is likely to pounce 
down on me at any time, and I guess I’ve got to 
keep spruced up for him if I want to keep my job. 
Isn’t it great! You think I can really do it? I’m 
crazy to begin. Will you want me to do anything 
in the heavy timber ? ” 

“ No, not this winter. We will confine our ener- 
gies to the ravine and the encroaching woods and 
the young nursery. We’ll leave the deep forest for 
another year, when we hope to have acquired a 
State reservation. By that time we may be calling 
you our chief forester, too. Who knows?” 

Jim smiled as he replied, “ Well, Mr. Lyford, 
you think grandpa’ll sell you this land for that pur- 
pose, but I wouldn’t bank too much on it if I were 
you. I don’t believe he’ll sell ’nother thing or do 
anything more about the farm till we find my father 
— thar is if we ever do.” 

Jim’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. Then he 
smiled and looked backward, toward the ravine 
where the light from the slowly sinking sun fell 
on the shaggy bark of the yellow hickories, and the 
curly leaves of the red maples. The trees were al- 
ready showing the effects of the first approach of 
cold weather. A few bronzed oaks, sentinels tall 
and stately, seemed to nod their pleased conscious- 
ness of Jim’s unexpected good fortune, as the even- 
ing breeze daintily swayed their top branches toward 
him. And in spite of his disappointment about his 
father, Jim couldn’t help feeling happy. 


300 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


“ It seems too good to be true,” he said, turning 
from the trees and looking up at Mr. Lyford. “ I 
can hardly believe that only last night I was so dis- 
couraged and blue, that I thought the bottom was 
going to- drop right out of everything.” 

“ How little we know what a day will bring 
forth,” mused his friend. “ I’m glad you like my 
plan, Jim, and will act as forester and general agent 
for us, but I’m sure it did not need my request to 
put you in your present frame of mind. I thought, 
when I met you, just now, that you looked quite 
happy and contented, and you hadn’t the least idea 
of what I was going to tell you, had you? ” 

“ No, indeed,” answered Jim. “ Well, you see 
this is how it was. Yesterday, I didn’t know what 
I wanted to do. When Sam came back and told us 
his story, and grandpa was so worked up over it, 
I felt — well, I can’t tell you how I felt. •* First, I 
wanted to go right off and hunt for my father my- 
self, and then I knew I couldn’t on grandpa’s ac- 
count, and then that made me feel worse than ever. 
So I just knew the only thing I could do was to 
spend a day by myself in the glen and think things 
over ; and isn’t it the strangest thing how one thing 
follows another? I’d just made up my mind that I 
had got to stay at home and take care of grandpa, 
and not think about anything else — my father, or 
what I was going to do when I grew up, or any- 
thing, and I was glad it was all settled and I needn’t 
worry any more. And then here you come along 


IN THE GLEN 


301 


and ask me to do the very one thing in all the 
world I’d rather do, only I didn’t know it till you 
talked to me about it ! Now I know what I’m going 
to do when I grow up — be a forester! ” 

Mr. Lyford shared the boy’s enthusiasm, and for 
some time longer they talked over their plans and 
Jim’s duties for the coming winter. Then, when 
they rose to answer the summons of the supper bell, 
he said : 

“ And what about the reward, Jim? If you get 
the $500, what will you do with it ? ” 

“ When I get it, no if” smilingly corrected Jim. 
“ For the United States Government will keep its 
promise, I guess, won’t it? Well, I was going to 
use it to find my father with, but now that I can’t 
leave home, I’m going to put it in the bank and 
save it till I can go' away to school, — ’less I have 
to use some of it for us to live on. And now that 
I’m going to get some rent from the pines, I shan’t 
need much, if any, of the reward and, do you know 
how much the college’ll think I’m worth? Gee, 
won’t it be great to be on a salary just like a man, 
and have something coming in reg’lar?” 

Mr. Lyford laughed. “ No, Jim, I can’t tell yet 
what you will be worth to us, because, you see, the 
position has just been created, but I hope the salary 
will be sufficiently large so we will not disagree 
about terms.” 

“ Well, I guess there won’t be much danger of 
that,” smiled Jim, “ so far as I’m concerned, any- 


302 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 

way. Seems to me I’d be willing to work ’thout 
any money at all, for besides being awfully inter- 
esting, it’ll keep me so busy I won’t have much time 
to worry ’bout my father, and grandpa’ll be so in- 
terested, too, he won’t think about him too much, 
either.” 

“ I am glad for that, Jim,” replied Mr. Lyford. 
“ I dislike the thought of your grandfather sitting 
in that chair all this long winter, and brooding over 
his absent son. We must try in every way to keep 
him as cheerful as possible, and in the meantime, 
unknown to him, of course, we will do what we can 
to get on the track of your father. I feel, with 
you, that he is alive and, thinking he has no longer 
any family here, is in no hurry to return. I also 
feel sure that he can, and will be found. And now, 
what is it that smells so good ? ” 

“ Tea biscuit, and hot gingerbread, and apple 
sauce,” exclaimed Jim, as they ran up the piazza 
steps together. “ My, what a good supper we’re 
going to have, and then I must go down to Skip’s 
and tell him the news. Won’t he be surprised?” 

Jim’s surprising news, however, was not equal 
to the message which was flashed over the telegraph 
and telephone wires to the Jones farm that evening, 
and which, intrusted to Jim’s chum, sent him scam- 
pering up the road as fast as his bare feet could 
take him. The boys met half way between the two 
farms. As soon as they were within hailing dis- 
tance, Skip called out : 

“ News — a telegram — from — the — President 


IN THE GLEN 


303 


— of the United States — Jim! He’s sending — a 
detective — a secret service man, he calls him, and 
he’ll get here to-morrow on the noon train! We’re 
to meet him, pa says, and oh, ain’t it great ! ” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE UNITED STATES DETECTIVE 

/ | A HE night that the boys “ were sure would 
never pass,” at last gave way to the dawn, 
and the bright, clear sun arose on a perfect autumn 
morning. As they had a long, busy day before 
them in which to do many last things before leav- 
ing the farm, the college boys and Mr. Lyford 
breakfasted earlier than usual. Before they all set 
forth on their various duties, however, they found 
time to again congratulate Jim on the expected ar- 
rival of the detective, and the reward they hoped he 
was bringing to the excited boy. Mrs. Lyford and 
Ellen, accompanied by the girls, who were going to 
motor to Rutland for a morning’s shopping, also 
hoped they would be back in time to help welcome 
the unusual visitor, though they felt quite sure he’d 
be made to feel at home “ without their saying 
anything.” 

Skip, who had come up from home right after 
the morning “ chores ” had been done, and Jim 
both laughingly agreed to this, and stood in the 
road a moment watching the automobile till it 
whirred around a comer and disappeared. Then 
they turned and ran toward the barn. They were 
304 


THE UNITED STATES DETECTIVE 305 

anxious to get to work on the depot wagon. It 
needed to be thoroughly cleaned and the harness 
oiled, the buckles polished, and Judge, too, as Jim 
said, “ must be put through a course of sprouts be- 
fore train time. It would never do to meet the 
detective in an untidy condition, for did he not 
represent the United States Government? And 
that being so, was it not necessary to show him all 
the respect they could by being in as fine a condition 
as possible?” Skip, of course, agreed to this, and 
indeed, had come on purpose to help Jim get ready, 
and as it would take a long time to do all they 
planned, it was with more or less temper they turned 
back to the porch when Mr. Burton called to them. 

“ Oh, grandpa, do you want us for anything very 
special?” exclaimed Jim. “You know how much 
we’ve got to do in order to be ready by train time ! ” 

Mr. Burton, quiet and amused, sat in his wheel 
chair and smiled at their impatience. 

“ I just called you back, boys,” he said, “ to ask 
you where you’re going to put him when you get him 
here.” 

The boys looked at each other and laughed. 
“ Why, that’s so,” said Skip. “ He’ll want to wash 
up before dinner, I s’pose.” 

“ And of course he’ll stay all night,” added Jim. 
“ There’ll be so much to show him and talk about 
that he couldn’t leave before to-morrow, anyway, 
could he, grandpa? ” 

“ I should hardly think so,” replied Mr. Burton. 
“ I guess we’d better have a room ready for him, 


30 6 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


in case he should want to stay over. So don’t you 
think you’d better put one of the empty rooms to 
rights for him? Kind o’ dust ’round a little, and 
mebbe put some flowers in a vase on the table? I 
noticed that the asters and golden rod Mrs, Lyford 
had in the fireplace in the dining room last night, 
looked kind o’ cheerful and nice. Didn’t you think 
so?” 

“ Well, I guess I didn’t notice much,” answered 
Jim, “ but I think it’s a good idea all right. We’ll 
do that and can I take that old picture of Lincoln 
from your room and hang it on the wall? Let’s 
give him the room right over mine, ’cause the view 
up the glen’s so pretty. Come on, Skip, let’s get 
the flowers first and then we’ll do the other things.” 

The boys gladly scampered off toward the mead- 
ows, presently to return with their arms filled with 
a few delicately tinted autumn leaves and many 
gayly colored wild flowers and long trailing sprays 
of ivy. Sam, who had learned what they were 
doing, met them at the front door with an old 
American flag and a red cord and tassel which was 
draped around an army sword taken from a closet 
in the carpenter’s shop. 

“ Goody ! Gee ! Sam, that’s just fine,” cried the 
boys. “ Come on up and help us decorate the 
room.” In a short time the three, talking gayly 
together, and busily hanging the flag and picture 
and arranging the flowers, so transformed the little 
room that it looked quite attractive and homelike. 
As Jim said, “ as though some one lived there and 


THE UNITED STATES DETECTIVE 307 

had just stepped out for a moment.” He wished 
his grandfather could see it. When they went 
downstairs he described what they had done as well 
as he could and then, with Sam and Skip, hurried 
out to the work awaiting them at the barn. 

Sam, on account of his rheumatism, could not 
move about rapidly, so he sat down in the sun with 
polish and oil, the buckles and cloths, and went to 
work on the harness. The boys ran the depot 
wagon down in the brook. With a bucket and 
sponges and a whisk-broom they gave it the most 
thorough cleaning it had had for many a long day. 
When they had finished it looked quite like a new 
carriage, and even Sam, kindly critical as ever, could 
not find a single fault with it. Then it was dragged 
up into the shade of the maple trees and the boys 
ran into the meadow to catch Judge. They did not 
think that staid old horse could be so gay as he 
proved to be that morning. They were not prepared 
for the long and hard chase he gave them before 
he allowed himself to be caught and led to the bars. 
Even then he tossed his head repeatedly and sniffed 
the air as if to say, “ You just wait till I’m hitched 
to that wagon and then see what I’ll do! ” His un- 
willingness to be groomed and brushed gave the 
boys work much harder than they had expected, and 
they were quite out of breath and more or less out 
of patience as well when the last hoof was cleaned 
and polished, and the last hair in the tail that would 
keep switching, brushed back in place. 

“My sakes alive,” finally sighed Jim, “the old 


3 o8 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


Harry’s certainly in that horse to-day, but I guess 
he’s all right now. Come on, let’s harness him up 
and then fix ourselves afterward.” 

“ You go ’long,” laughed Sam, “ I’ll do the 
harnessing, all right. Yew air all tuckered out, 
now, as ’tis, without having another tussle with thet 
tail.” 

The boys only too willingly ran off and into the 
house, from which many happy squeals and shouts 
of laughter came as they washed and combed and 
brushed till they were, as Sam admiringly said when 
they reappeared, “ fixed up good ’nough ter meet 
the President himself.” 

They walked Judge around to the front of the 
house that Mr. Burton might see how nice they 
looked; then turning down the road drove rapidly 
toward the village. Judge, as though conscious that 
something more than usual was expected of him 
that day, and still feeling the effects of the crisp, 
autumn morning, held his head up and went along 
at such a good rate that they reached the station in 
much less than the usual time. It was well they did 
so for as it was they were late. No sooner had they 
cranked the wheel at the edge of the platform, 
jumped out and tied Judge to the much-rubbed and 
nicked hitching post, than, with a shrill whistle and 
roar the Canadian Express thundered around the 
curve into the station. The brakes screamed, the 
steam escaped in a warm, watery cloud, the wheels 
turned slower and slower and finally stopped. Yet, 
before the long, snakelike train had quite come to a 


THE UNITED STATES DETECTIVE 309 

standstill, most of the passengers began to jump 
from the platforms and hurry away in different 
directions. 

Jim and Skip stood in the open doorway of the 
waiting room and looked expectantly at the hurry- 
ing crowd, wondering how they should know the 
one they sought. While their attention was thus 
fixed on the busy scene before them, they failed to 
notice the good-looking passenger who swung him- 
self from the platform of the last car and, passing 
quietly around the end of the depot, entered the wait- 
ing room by the opposite door. He stood just back 
of the boys for a moment gazing intently first at 
one and then at the other. Then, placing one hand 
lightly on the shoulder of the taller boy, he gently 
said: 

“ Good morning, Jim.” 

Both boys whirled around, astonished, and Jim 
looked up into what he thought was the kindest face 
he had ever seen. 

“ Wh-wh-why, how did you know I was Jim?” 
he faltered; and as they stepped to one side that 
others might pass them, Skip exclaimed, with an 
embarrassed smile: 

“ Well, what’s the use of being a detective, Jim, 
if he can’t detect? ” 

“ That’s true, Skip,” heartily laughed the man. 
“ What is the use? And so you are the two boys 
I am looking for ! I thought I couldn’t be mistaken 
— and I am the man you came to meet. And now, ’ 
as the boys were still too surprised to do anything 


3io THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


save gaze at the one of whom they had thought and 
talked so much, “ that we have found each other, 
suppose we move on, shall we? ” 

Thus advised, Skip eagerly took his suit case and 
Jim ran on ahead and untied Judge. The detective 
was a tall, thin man with sloping shoulders, and 
though nothing in his appearance, he was quietly 
dressed in a dark blue serge suit, indicating his pro- 
fession, he delighted the boys right away by throw- 
ing open his coat and showing them the badge of 
his office pinned way back, out of sight. Jim 
thought he’d wear it so that every one could see it ! 
But probably the detective was used to it by this 
time! And when he asked him about it, the man 
laughingly said that was just why he didn’t wear 
it — he didn’t want others to see it. He used to 
be asked so many questions that he found the only 
thing he could do was to keep his badge hidden. 

“ Well,” Skip ventured to say, “ I think I’d know 
you were a detective even without the badge, your 
eyes are so sharp they seem to look right through 
a feller.” 

By this time the detective had taken his seat in 
the rear of the carriage and reached out his hand 
for his bag. Skip gave it to him and then jumped 
up beside Jim who turned Judge toward home. It 
was well that the horse knew the road and could be 
trusted to keep it. He jogged along according to 
his own will for the greater part of the way, because 
the boys were so excited telling their story and an- 
swering the detective’s questions they spent the most 


THE UNITED STATES DETECTIVE 31 1 

of the time with their backs toward the dash- 
board. 

Skip did more than half of the talking. For 
some unaccountable reason, Jim felt shy. He was 
content just to look at the detective and to listen to 
what he said. The visitor had a very jolly laugh 
and merry gray eyes that twinkled when he smiled. 
Once, when he absent-mindedly rested his hand on 
Jim’s shoulder and let it stay, the boy felt that he 
liked to have it there. And it wasn’t the thought 
of the reward that made him feel so, either! Jim 
was conscious that here was a friend, some one who 
— perhaps — could help him find his father within 
a very short time. 

While the story of the secret passage and room 
was still being told, they passed Skip’s farm and not 
till the big, gray stone inn came in sight farther on 
did Jim think to say, “ See, there’s our house that 
we’re talking about now.” He reined in Judge and 
stopped that he could the better point out the win- 
dow up in the secret room. The detective leaned 
forward and while Skip happily continued their 
wonderful narrative, the keen, gray eyes rapidly 
scanned the front of the house that, with gay flow- 
ers on stone porch and in the doorway, open win- 
dows and pretty curtains, looked like a comfortable 
and happy home. Blackie was stretched at full 
length, asleep, in a patch of sunshine, but no other 
sign of life was to be seen. 

“ Guess grandpa must be inside taking a nap,” 
said Jim, as he chirped to Judge and drove around 


312 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


the corner of the house to the dooryard, “ ’r else 
he’d be out watching for us.” 

“ Let us be as quiet as we can, then, not to dis- 
turb him,” whispered the detective, “ it would be 
a pity to wake him up.” 

“ Not much danger of that,” softly answered Jim. 
“ He’s an orful good sleeper. Do you mind waiting 
till we unharness Judge? ’Twon’t take but a 
minute; then we’ll show you up to your room. 
P’rhaps, you’d like to rest before dinner. It’s going 
to be a little late to-day ’cause the folks went to 
Rutland this morning. If you’re hungry, though, 
I can get you some milk and a doughnut.” 

“ I didn’t know I was hungry till this minute,” 
smilingly answered the detective, “ but I think a 
glass of milk and a doughnut — one of Ellen’s 
doughnuts — would just go to the spot.” 

“ How’d you know they were Ellen’s dough- 
nuts?” giggled Skip. 

“ Oh, it’s more of his detective work, I s’pose,” 
said Jim gayly. 

“ Well, it’s not quite that this time,” laughed their 
new friend, “ for in one of the three letters that 
told the President your story, the writer let us know 
about Ellen. I’ve a great deal to tell you boys about 
the interest those letters created in our official family 
in Washington, but think I’d better wait till we can 
all get together and have one big powwow, don’t 
you think so? Then I shall only have to tell my 
part of the story once and you can all hear.” 

“Yep, that’s all right,” consented the boys, “but 


THE UNITED STATES DETECTIVE 


3i3 


I don’t believe we can wait one single minute later 
than after supper to-night. Then the college fellers 
will be through their work and Skip’s family can 
all come up.” 

By this time Jim had lowered the shafts and 
slipped the harness from Judge. The horse 
wrinkled his back as though glad to be free again 
and started on a run for the pasture. The boys 
quickly put up the bars behind him and then, taking 
the bag to the foot of the stairs, led their visitor to 
the pantry where they all found a glass of milk and 
more than one doughnut! A few moments later 
they were well repaid for their work of the early 
morning. The detective was delighted with his 
room and kept walking around, his hands thrust deep 
down in his pockets, saying again and again : 

“ And you did this for me ; you did this for me ! 
I’m so pleased, boys. But why? ” 

“ Well, ’twas grandpa’s idea, in the first place,” 
Jim replied. “ He said he thought it would be nice 
to make you feel at home.” 

“ ‘ At home ’ — home,” said the man reflectively. 
“ Well, that’s what it certainly is, Jim, a home. It 
looks it, it feels it, and it makes me glad indeed to 
think I may be ‘ at home ’ here for awhile. You 
know United States detectives are members of that 
large body of workers for the Government, many of 
whom have no settled homes. Now I, for instance, 
have traveled about for so many years that this is 
the first time I’ve been ‘ at home,’ ” here he stood 
in front of Jim and smiled at the boy as he con- 


3 14 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


tinued, “ for more years than I’d like to tell you, 
and — ” suddenly he stopped, and, once more thrust- 
ing his hands in his pockets, recommenced his walk 
around the room. The boys were embarrassed and 
didn’t know what to do or say. Fortunately, how- 
ever, Jim, who glanced out of the window just then, 
saw Sam crossing the dooryard so he exclaimed : 

“ Oh, don’t you want to come down now and see 
Sam, our hired man? He’s an awful nice feller! ” 

“ Yes, indeed,” agreed the detective, smiling in 
an amused way. “ Of course I want to meet Sam, 
for I’m very anxious to hear all about this Western 
trip of his. Without knowing it he did a fine bit 
of detective work on his own account, didn’t he? 
We shall have a great deal to tell each other. Shall 
I go first ? ” 

Jim nodded and followed him down the broad, 
shallow staircase. When they reached the lower 
hall they heard Mr. Burton call. He was awake. 

“ Oh, come meet my grandfather first,” cried Jim. 
Darting forward he opened the door and entered the 
front room. “ Oh, grandpa,” he exclaimed, “ you 
’wake? Here he is! Here’s the detective!” 

Mr. Burton, in his wheel chair, was sitting in the 
center of the room immediately opposite the door. 
When Jim entered he was polishing his spectacles. 
That done, he adjusted them in front of his keen 
eyes and graciously looked up to Jim’s companion 
who stood just behind the boy, while Skip hovered 
by, a few steps farther in the rear. Suddenly the 



“Oh, Grandpa, you ’wake? Here he is! 

detective.” 


Here’s the 










THE UNITED STATES DETECTIVE 315 

invalid did something which, unassisted, he had not 
done since he was thrown from the old oak tree 
many weeks ago. He stood up! Jim, frightened, 
he did not know why, jumped toward him. 

“ Grandpa ! ” he cried. But the old man pushed 
past the boy as though he were not there. Taking 
first one, then another faltering step forward, he 
held out his shaking, eager arms to the stranger on 
the threshold, and before the detective could say a 
word the old man cried : 

“Jim! Jimmie, boy! You’ve come back ! Oh, 
my son, my son, you’ve come home ! ” 

Skip quietly stepped back into the hall and softly 
closed the door. 

“ I don’t believe it’s true,” he cried ; “ I don’t be- 
lieve it’s true ! ” 

Then he raced down the hall, out on the back 
porch and almost upset Sam, who was just about 
to sit down in the shade on the top step. “ What 
d’you s’pose? ” he exclaimed. “The detective’s 
come and he’s in there walking ’round. He’s Mr. 
Burton’s father and Jim saw the chair stand up and 
walk, too, ’thout holding on to anything ’tall ! And 
then Jim began to cry and his grandfather called 
the detective — ” 

“Hold on there now, Skip,” interrupted Sam. 
“ Quit yer didoes. What yer trying ter say, any- 
how? Who called the detective what and what’s 
th’ chair got to do ’ith it anyhow ? ” 

“ Oh, gosh,” laughed Skip. “ I never was so ex- 


3 i6 THE MYSTERY OF GREY OAK INN 


cited in my life!” He dropped down beside the 
hired man. 

“ I certin’ly agree with yer,” smilingly agreed 
Sam, “but I shouldn’t think thet just th’ sight of 
a detective, even if he is sent by the President of 
th’ United States, would upset yer so. He’s only 
plain man after all. Whar’s Jim?” 

“ Well, he may be a plain man all right,” replied 
Skip, “ though I think he’s a mighty good-looking 
one — but he’s more’n a detective. What d’you 
think Mr. Burton did when he saw him ? Stood up 
and walked half way ’cross the room! Without 
taking hold ’er anybody ! Yep, that’s just what hap- 
pened, Sam, for I saw him do it ! And the detect- 
ive is Jim’s father! What do you think of that? ” 

Sam gave one startled glance at Skip. Then he 
slowly rose to his feet and started for the door in 
silence. There he hesitated and stood in a dazed 
manner, looking back at the boy. 

“ I don’t believe it,” he whispered. 

“ Exactly what I said,” came the answer. 
“Don’t seem’s though it coidd be so, does it?” 
Yet while they stood silently gazing at each other, 
trying to realize what it all meant, Mr. Burton’s door 
opened and Jim ran out to them. 

“ Sam, you here? ” he cried. “ Come on in, will 
you? My father wants to see you.” 

He grasped the trembling hand of the faithful 
hired man and hastily led him indoors again. Sam 
looked in awe at his happy, shining face. Then, 
hearing the horn of the returning automobile, he 


THE UNITED STATES DETECTIVE 317 


made several hand-springs over the lawn on his way 
to greet the home-comers and tell them the wonder- 
ful news. 


THE END 


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